The Shadowtide
by LittlePsychoWolf
Summary: A stoat is shanghaied into Salamandastron's secret army: a small group of reformed vermin who slip into attacking hordes and act as assassins and spies. Rated for some gory parts & character deaths.
1. Traveler

The ocean lapped quietly against the coast, waves ebbing and flowing in their soothing, eternal motion. It was a dark night; the stars were obscured by clouds and it was the time of the new moon. The light flickered as it wound its way across the shore, small as a firefly and as insignificant against the huge, shadowy monolith that was Salamandastron.

For many seasons the great mountain had been without a Badger Ruler, ever since the passing of Lord Tyr Ravenfrost some ten summers before. Now a small interim council, formed from the highest-ranking officers of the Long Patrol, held sway in the stronghold till another warrior should rise up and answer destiny's call.

* * *

The stoat's eyes flicked warily back and forth as he padded through the sand. The tiny flame of his lantern wavered in a sudden cool breeze, and he cursed under his breath, fearing that it would go out altogether and he would be left alone on the hostile shore. He was a slim creature in his late adolescent seasons, clad in a dark brown jerkin and cream-colored breeches stained by two season's worth of traveling. Other than the long, bronze-handled dagger thrust through his simple barkcloth belt, he carried no weapons. A scar-like stripe of pale fur that ran across his right eye gave his features a malevolent look in the feeble glow of the lantern.

He trotted over the top of a sand dune, slipping into the shelter of its leeward side. Here he would be protected from the chill of the late autumn night till dawn arrived, and with it the next stage of his journey.

* * *

The young stoat awakened to two things: the soft glow of the early morning sun, and the hard bite of the cutlass that was currently shoved into his midriff. A Corsair's tattooed face was leering inches from his own.

"Wakey wakey, me 'earty," the ferret chuckled. "Wot a wunnerful mornin' it be, eh?" He was about to say more, when a nearby fox, who had been staring off toward the shoreline, indicated for his companion to remove the weapon.

"Cap'n's 'ere, mate," he commented. "Better show 'er wot yer found."

Withdrawing his blade, the ferret kicked his captive upright and herded him back over the dunetop, cuffing him hard about the head as the defiant stoat tried to bite him. "Hoi, quit that, y'mange-eared liddle-"

The jollyboat's keel scraped the sand, and six creatures leapt out. Corsairs all, they were typical specimens, tattooed from ears to tail, dressed in tawdry silks, and with enough weaponry to outfit a small army. Five of the vermin moved towards the captive and formed a tight circle, further preventing escape. Looking past his enemies, the stoat could make out a huge ship, anchored far out against the horizon. As he watched, it slowly turned around and began to head for land. That was all he needed- as if eight Corsairs weren't bad enough, now the reinforcements were coming.

Abruptly, the circle parted, and the Corsair captain strode through. It was a female weasel, lean and muscular, with four silver-and-bone earrings in each ear that jangled as she walked. She snorted in evident disinterest as she surveyed the scene. Drawing a bone-handled scimitar, she laid it delicately edge-downward on her prisoner's muzzle, its tip resting on his nose.

"So wot'd yer find this time, Tashak, eh?" she asked the ferret who still stood guarding the captive, cutlass redundantly pressed against his throat.

"Er, some wanderin' stoat, Cap'n. 'E 'ad food, a knife, an' a lanting, like 'e was perpared' ter go somewhere, so me 'n Sharktail waited till 'e fell asleep 'an jumped 'im."

"Indeed." The weasel seemed quite unmoved by this news, although her voice still carried a note of amusement.

"So, stoat, is me loyal crewbeast right? Are ye goin' someplace?" The young beast made a choking noise, and the Corsair indicated for Tashak to put up his weapon.

Inwardly, he was raging, but his wits had not deserted him in his anger. Thinking quickly, he concocted an answer that was not far from the truth. The Corsair tapped her footpaw impatiently. "Well?"

"Yon mountain," he snapped, fed up with this pirate and her little game. The weasel's eyes widened in mock surprise, and she grinned broadly.

"Ye don't say! Well, terday's yer lucky day, mate. That's where I'm bound too, an' we're gonna have slaves 'n' plunder aplenty when we takes it!" Her crew cheered raucously, raising their weapons high, until she silenced them with a wave of the paw.

"Unfortunately," she continued, "Ye ain't gonna be sharin' the fun, me old stoat. Tashak ain't the brightest star in the sky, an' 'e usually thinks I'm int'rested in wotever beast 'e 'appens ter pick up when scoutin'. I ain't got no room in me crew fer landlubbers, so I'll give ye a choice." She moved the scimitar down to his throat.

"I'll give ye some work ter do, either way. Yer can serve on me ship as a galley slave, or ye can stay here an' feed those pore starvin' birds." She indicated the gulls that were beginning to gather overhead; the scavengers had witnessed the dealings of Corsairs before and were eager for a share in the outcome.

With a choked snarl, the young stoat spat on the sand near the captain's footpaws. He expected the Corsair to slay him on the spot, but she merely threw back her head and laughed wickedly.

"Hahahahaarrr! I wuz hopin' ye'd say that, mate. I 'aven't had this much fun in a long time. Don't worry, I'll make it nice an' slow for ya." Raising her blade, she prepared to strike.

A slingstone whizzed out of nowhere, striking her sword paw. The scimitar dropped to the ground as the Corsair wrung her paws in agony. "Yeooowww! By the bloody 'ellgates, who did that?!" she roared. A bone-chilling warcry answered her.

"Eulaliiiiiiaaaaaaaa!" Fourscore Long Patrol came charging out at the wave vermin. The young stoat gasped; the hare warriors were a fearsome sight. The fox Sharktail gave a gurgling scream and fell backwards, dirty claws scrabbling feebly at the javelin through his chest.

Two more of the Corsairs were slain before the remainder thought to begin a retreat back to the jollyboat, only to find themselves surrounded. The captain was likewise impeded, and under interrogation by a stern lieutenant with saber at the ready. He pointed the lethal blade in her direction. "Kasivar Steelwave, eh? I've heard yore name bandied about these parts, wot. So, pirate, d'ye fancy a battle?" Kasivar sprang up, snarling as she grabbed her scimitar from the sand. "Come on, rabbit, let's see if yer can fight as nice as y'talk!"

Both hares and the surviving Corsairs crowded into a silent ring around the combatants. The weasel chuckled as she licked the keen edge of her sword. Her enemy seemed quite unfazed by the show of bravado as he performed the customary warrior's salute.

Kasivar Steelwave raised her scimitar, muscles tensing as she prepared to leap.

None of the watchers saw the saber move, but in less time than it took to blink the Corsair captain stood with her scimitar pointing at empty space and the hare's blade across her throat.

"Goin' to surrender, wavescum?" he inquired, drawing back the saber slightly so she could answer. The weasel saw instantly that any further attempts at attack would be fatal.

She hung her head, the picture of ashamed defeat. "Yes... sir. But will ye let me an' my crew back t'our ship in peace? I swear by this blade, ye'll never see us set paw on these here shores again." The lieutenant actually laughed.

"Let ye go? So you an' your raiders can sail away and slaughter other pore innocent beasts?"

Kasivar laid her sword at her enemy's footpaws. Surprised by the further gesture of surrender, the hare lowered his blade momentarily.

A curved dagger appeared in the weasel's paw. She leapt forward like a striking cobra, slashing sideways, up, and down, lightning fast.

The lieutenant fell to the sand, with a deep, curving gash in his throat and his skull split open to the bone. The gulls cried eagerly overhead as a dark, glistening stain began to spread across the shore. The Corsair bent down and retrieved her scimitar, laughing aloud at the hare's foolishness.

Before the Long Patrol could move so much as a muscle, Steelwave had leapt aboard the jollyboat and begun to row away. A hare notched arrow to string and fired; the weasel, already well beyond paw's reach, slumped forward as the boat was pulled out to sea on the ebbing tide. Whoever was steering the huge ship abruptly did an about-face, heading the vessel back out into the deep till it was lost to sight.

* * *

While the fateful battle had been going on, the young stoat and the remaining Corsairs had been shepherded together and held under tight guard. Although stunned by the desertion of their captain and the loss of their ship, the wave vermin were by no means submissive. The ferret Tashak leapt up from the sand, waving his cutlass and howling wildly.

"Cummon, mates, they can't 'old us like this! Chaaaaaaaarge!"

The stoat was nearly knocked head over tail as the pirates raced at the circle of impassive warriors, roaring and swinging their weapons. A hare near the outer edge cried out and fell as a Corsair brandished his dripping blade, laughing triumphantly until an arrow caught him in the throat.

Tashak, never the most strategic of creatures, found his rebellion going awry. The remaining two Corsairs had managed to break out and were racing over the shore, sand flying from their pounding footpaws as they beat a hasty retreat. The ferret found himself surrounded once more, this time by a score of hares, all leveling lances, arrows, and blades directly at his chest. Snarling viciously, he paced back and forth inside the ring like a caged wild beast, trying to bluff his enemies with a show of ferocity.

A stern voice rang out from within the hare forces. "Steady in the ranks thah, that's enough!" The circle of hares parted to allow the sergeant through.

"Lissen up, ferret. I'll give you a choice, though ye don't deserve it in the least. Now, you can stay here by all means an' try your luck against seventy-eight trained fighting hares, or you..."

He trailed off, as the panicked Tashak shoved hares left, right, and center and fled north over the dunes. Nobeast made an attempt to follow him. The sergeant turned back to his fighters, satifisied that his point had been made, and noticed the second prisoner. He prodded the young stoat in the chest with his blade, none too gently.

"Why didn't you slay this one?" he demanded gruffly.

A younger hare saluted with his lance. "This stoat was being held prisoner by the Corsairs, sah! Didn't seem like one himself, so we kept him under guard, thought you might want t' interrogate him. Stoat did not put up a fight in the least, might I add, sah!"

"Humph," the sergeant grunted. "Well, I'm not in the mood to chat with vermin right now, laddie buck, so knock him out and bring him inside, wot! We'll deal with him later."

He barely had time to comprehend the words before something struck him in the back of the head, sending colored stars exploding into his field of vision, and everything went dark.


	2. Prisoner?

Consciousness was some time in returning to the young stoat, and when it did it was an unpleasant experience. His numbed paws were tightly bound to his sides, and in the areas where he had not lost feeling, the ropes dug into fur and flesh with a vengeance. For the sake of something to do, he inspected the room in which he was being held.

He was lying on a stone slab that was covered with a soft blanket, obviously to serve as a bed. Aside from a small table and a woven rug, the room was bare. An unlit candle sat in a wall sconce by the window. Late afternoon sunlight filtered through the rough curtains and pooled in odd patterns upon the floor. So he wasn't underground, then.

The room's only door was made of thick oak, and locked from the outside. No escape there. The combination of dehydration, pain, and fatigue made staying awake a challenge, and with a sigh he fell into darkness once more.

* * *

The jollyboat had drifted far out into the ocean on a vaguely eastern course, urged on by the breeze and the tides. There was no land to be seen; all around was the vast expanse of blue-green water. Twilight was gathering, and the first few stars could be seen pricking through the darkening skies. In a sudden strong wind, the little vessel rocked violently to one side, and seawater splashed up into the face of its only occupant, shocking her awake. 

The arrow had only pierced the Corsair's shoulder. Gritting her teeth against the pain, Kasivar sawed through the shaft with her dagger and managed to remove the arrowhead. When she had finished, the wound was bleeding freely; removing the silken scarf from her brow, she bound it around the injured shoulder and sacrificed one of her earrings to hold the makeshift dressing in place.

A dirty sailcloth sack was stowed beneath one of the seats. Tugging it out, the weasel undid the drawstring and emptied the bag's contents onto the floor of the boat.

It was not much in terms of survival, a mere fallback if the raid went awry and they could not return to the ship. A small bag of provisions and two canteens, one of water and the other containing good seaweed grog. At the moment, however, the sack's third item was far more important than food or drink to the marooned Corsair.

Unfurling the large roll of stained, slightly damp parchment, Steelwave traced the map with her paw. There was that damned mountain, guarding the southwest coasts. To the northeast was forest, marked Mossflower. Beyond the woods, there were a few northerly mountains, but mostly flatlands- probably desert, she reckoned. No use going there, even if she knew what direction to take. Having been unconscious for most of the little voyage, Kasivar had no way of knowing how far away she was from shore, or in what direction she'd drifted. Cursing her bad luck, the Corsair considered her next move.

By now night had fully arrived, and being without lantern, flint, or steel, the weasel was literally in the dark. There was no hope of being able to read the map or a compass, but one last option remained.

Throwing back her head, she stared up into the heavens, quickly locating the North Star with a practiced eye- heading toward it would do. Anywhere but back to that mountain.

* * *

The next morning brought the beginning of a seemingly ceaseless drizzle, with the sky a blank and dismal gray. With some surprise, the stoat awoke to find that the ropes had been removed from his paws and that two creatures were once more standing over him. 

No pirates this time, but scarcely any better. One was the sergeant who had ordered him taken captive after the fight on the shore. The second... He was not even sure what manner of beast it was.

It was male, and resembled a very large fox in the general shape of his body. But his pelt was like that of no fox he had ever seen- a perplexing mixture of gray, brown, tan, and tinges of coppery red, with darker fur tipping the bushy tail. Clever golden eyes gazed down at him above the long muzzle. He was dressed in a simple dark tunic, surmounted by a gray coat richly accented with silver and gold thread.

Clearing his throat, the hare spoke.

"I see yore awake, vermin. What have y'got to say for yourself?"

The young stoat tried to answer, but his voice came out as an unintelligible rasp. The sergeant pulled a canteen off his belt and handed it over. Although his limbs began to shake with the effort, he managed to sit up and drink slowly. Now speech came more easily.

"What do you want to know?" he asked quietly, unsure of what the response would be.

_He called me 'vermin,' and up till now I was bound and locked away in this room. They must assume I'm a threat._

The hare was evidently surprised at the calm response. "Ahem, well, first things first, wot. What's your name, laddie?"

"Darikan, sir, but most beasts just called me Kan for short."

"Right, then. Kan it is, I ain't got the time for your full appellation. What's yore purpose in coming to our mountain, eh?"

"I wasn't headed toward this place, just passing by," Kan answered, slightly indigant. "I was travelin' south down the coast, when I was waylaid by the Corsair an' her crew."

The hare's eyes narrowed. "You aren't lying, are ye, stoat? You an' your kind have brought nothin' but misery and death to goodbeasts for generations. Where were you really going, and why?"

Kan glared back, angered by the sudden accusations. He was about to snarl at the officer when the other beast once again intervened.

"Peace, Merrond. He needn't tell you everything about 'is past-have I?" The sergeant grunted dismissively, but held his tongue.

"Darikan, I have an offer to make of ye. Wait, I see ye've another question."

"If you don't mind me askin', sir," the stoat replied nervously, "...what are you, exactly?"

He chuckled. "I take it ye have not seen one of my kind before, though I guessed as much from d'look on your face. I am a coyote, Darikan. My name is Rinqan, and I am the leader of the Shadowtide."

"The ...what?"

" 'Silent as shadows yet relentless as the waves, we alone control the tide of battle.' " he intoned. The hare rolled his eyes. "Bit on the dramatic side this chap, eh wot?" he remarked to the young stoat in an almost friendly manner.

"If you will come with me, Darikan," the coyote continued, "I will show you." He turned to leave, beckoning the stoat to follow him. Too puzzled to refuse, Kan stood up shakily, his strength not fully returned. The coyote was halfway out of the room when Sergeant Merrond's gruff bark halted them both in their tracks.

"Hold up there, lads. Yew may trust this feller, Rin, but I don't. It'd be a disgrace to me duty if I let 'im go rompin' through this mountain wid only you fer a guard. Wait 'ere, I'll fetch some Patrol to accompany you." The hare strode toward the door, but Rinqan gently laid a paw on his shoulder.

"Merrond, calm you down. This creature has had ample time to overpower us both and make his escape, should he have wished it, and he has done nothing. Remember this too, hare- I, like you, am a leader, and I am more than a match for one young stoat."

The sergeant sighed. "I suppose yore right. Very well, then, but keep 'im under tight watch and if he tries anythin', you know what to do."

* * *

Kan was led, extremely confused, down a series of passages. At last the coyote halted in front of what appeared to be a dead end, knocking three times on the blank stone wall.

_This 'coyote' beast is raving mad. What in the name of Hellgates is the 'Shadowtide?"_

A creaking sound came seemingly from nowhere, making Kan start and look around in confusion. Without warning the rock wall split in two, the sides retracting to expose a large chamber. As the two entered, a vixen waiting by the entrance abruptly released the handle of some mechanism, causing the two slabs to reconnnect with an earsplitting crash. Rinqan sighed as the stoat leapt two feet straight up in the air, his tail fluffed out so much that it resembled a fox's.

"Really, Tokala, do you have to do that to every new recruit?" The vixen gave a grin of mock wickedness. "Harr, gotta sharpen their reflexes, Rin, or they'll never make it into the 'Tide."

One part of the coyote's remark permeated the shock that had momentarily paralyzed Kan's brain.

_Recruit?_


	3. New Friends

Kan stared around the hidden room, lost for words. The occupants returned his stare, most curiously, though a large fox seated by the window was eyeing him with open hostility. After a moment or two, he spoke, his deep voice rich and slightly accented.

"Why have you brought us dis creature, Rinqan? Surely ye don' mean to train him for der 'Tide? 'E seems weak an' frightened to me."

The coyote chieftain returned the fox's glare, though his voice was as calm and cool as ever.

"An' why shouldn't I, Arif? He is merely a young stoat, an' could prove useful. See, he looks like any other of his species, save fer that mark on 'is eye. Perfect for blending in with the enemy."

Not for the first time, Kan wondered what he was really getting into. Blending in with the enemy? Was he supposed to be a spy, or assassin? He had no skill with stealth or murder, as these creatures would undoubtedly find out. His thoughts were cut short as the big fox snarled softly.

"Very well, I'll give 'im a chance. Mark my words, though, Rinqan, if he be a betrayer or coward I'll tear him apart myself. Sakhyo, come 'ere."

Kan blinked in confusion as he saw the creature Arif had called rise and amble in their direction. "Quit orderin' me about, Arif, I ain't yer lackey," she snapped, though her dark eyes were twinkling good-naturedly.

She turned around and saw the young stoat for the first time. " 'Ey, who's this?" she demanded, and without waiting for an introduction she bounded over and cheerfully seized his paw in a bone-crushing grip.

At Kan's pitiful look, Rinqan chuckled briefly and remarked, "Darikan, this is Sakhyo. Her kind are known as minks, they live by the great rivers to the northwest. Sakhyo, this is Darikan, a stoat we found captured by the wave raiders."

Managing to free his paw, the stoat stepped back and surveyed the mink. She seemed about a season older than him, though of similar height and stockier build; dark bushy fur framed a clever, friendly face, with almond-shaped eyes and a slightly pointed muzzle. Upon hearing his name, she cocked her head to one side. "Darey…what? C'n I just call ya Dar? It's the only bit of your name I c'n remember."

He laughed. "Call me Kan, then. It's what every other beast does, Sack…um…" He trailed off, feeling foolish and slightly embarrassed, but the mink merely laughed.

"Here, ya say it like this. Sahk…hoy….oh." She waited as he repeated it a few times, then nodded. "See, wasn't so hard, eh? Here, lemme show you around."

He winced as she seized him once more by his already flattened paw and dragged him into the center of the room.

She looked around thoughtfully, surveying the other beasts. "Hmmm, ya know me, Arif, an' Rin already, so… That's Tokala over by the door…" The vixen who had scared him with the door mechanism gave him a wink and a mischievous grin; he rolled his eyes in reply.

"Oh," she continued, "and over by the fire is Raeyari." Following her pointing paw, Kan saw a thin marten there, quietly staring into the flames. She did not even look up at the sound of her name; instead she remained where she was, staring into the flames with dull eyes.

The young stoat could not conceal his surprise. "Only five creatures? And you go up against hordes?"

Sakhyo blinked. "Well, y'see, we don't fight head-on, obviously. We just work as spies and assassins, reporting the plans of the enemy back to the hares and sneakin' in a kill or two when we can. After they've accepted us, of course, though it usually don't take much- what warlord would pass up good fightin' beasts? There used to be more of us anyway, all totaled I'd say we numbered about a score or so."

"Then what happened?" Kan asked tentatively, unsure of his new friend's response.

"I don't know what really happened," she replied. "But yore welcome to hear my version. Come 'n' sit by the hearth, mate, an' I'll tell ya." She led him over to the fire, sitting next to the silent marten and indicating a third cushion. Kan was delighted to see a half-loaf of wheat bread and a plate of roasted fish on the nearby table, and fell on the food without a second thought. Sakhyo laughed as crumbs and fish scraps flew everywhere. "All right, finish yer vittles, mate, then I'll start talkin'."

* * *

On the far reaches of the western flatlands, the air was humid and still, promising a storm that would not be long in arriving. Already, dark gray thunderheads were beginning to gather along the horizon. 

The tall grass abruptly began to rustle and wave, and a lone creature stepped out into the open. It was a male weasel, of medium height for his species and tawny- rather than chestnut-furred. His dark eyes glinted as he surveyed the terrain ahead. At the very edge of his field of vision, dark cliffs rose up toward the sky. He would have to move faster, then- if he was not at the camp by nightfall, there would be more to reckon with than the weather.

* * *

**A/N: short,I know, but I wanted to give the following story its own chapter, even though it's not an insanely long one. More coming soon, it gets better people! Once again, thanks so much Kelaiah!**


	4. Sakhyo's Tale

Having finished his meal, Darikan relaxed back onto his cushion and focused his full attention on his new friend. The mink's eyes glittered in the firelight as she began to relate what had befallen the Shadowtide.

"It was nearly two seasons ago that Rin sent nearly all our forces to scout the land around Salamandawotsit- 'bout ten days' march in all directions. He was acting on the hares' orders, see, 'cause we'd been hearing dark rumors- about a mighty horde advancing from the northwest, led by a strange creature and causing general chaos. Shoulda heard some of the tales, mate, they'd chill yer to the bone.

Anyway, most of our army was sent out to do their job: joining the horde, though it ain't too hard- what sensible warlord would refuse good fightin' beasts? Once we're there, we blend in- make friends but avoid attracting attention, like being promoted. Even the dullest hordebeasts notice when their new Captain suddenly disappears, and then a little while later they're caught completely off guard and massacred, or their foes are prepared for everything they plan.

All we do is spy; relay battle tactics, numbers an' skill of the soldiers, things like that, and sneaking in a kill or two when we can. That last bit's easier than you think- most creatures in hordes will get in deadly fights over almost nothing at all.

Nearly a full season passed, and we still heard nothing. That was stranger than any rumor- we're trained to march hard and fast, just like the hares. Even the distant armies are reached after a month or so, and by the second or third month, the first few reports begin to trickle in.

But by all accounts this horde wasn't too far off, and not even a word had reached our mountain. That was, until-" Darikan interrupted curiously.

"Sorry t' stop you, but if these hares are such great warriors, why do they need you to spy for them? Why don't they just travel there themselves and wipe out the threat?"

Sakhyo blinked. "Huh… that's a good question, Kan. I think it's 'cause they need a strong leader for that, like the big stripedogs that usually live here. There hasn't been one in a while, though, certainly not when I came."

As Kan prepared to ask another question, she held up a warning paw, laughing. "Easy there, stoat! I thought ya wanted to hear the story, not gimme the third degree!

Now, as I was saying, we hadn't heard a thing for almost a season. Then one day, right about at the end of spring, just one of our creatures returned. We never could figure that out. We waited long and hard, but after nearly a month, the only creature to return out of fifteen was Raeyari." She indicated the marten, who was still looking into the fire with the same far-off gaze.

Peering around Sakhyo to get a better look at the silent creature, Kan saw in confusion that her eyes were dull, almost unseeing, and her pelt thin and faded, with patchy areas and a network of thin scars criss-crossing beneath. As a whole, she seemed somehow ethereal, like the ghost of a long-dead creature rather than flesh, blood, and bone. The young stoat shuddered and turned back to his friend; in the entire time he had been there, he was sure Raeyari had not moved even an inch.

"Anyway," Sakhyo continued, "I fergot t' mention something. Rae didn't return alone. That's how Arif got into our liddle group, an' when he arrived he was in a terrible state- bone-thin and near dead with exhaustion. Mind ya, Rae was little better, but at least Arif recovered. Once he'd slept and we'd got some food down 'im, he told us what happened.

Apparently his family had been killed by Corsairs earlier in the season, and he'd gone half-mad with grief before he decided to hunt down the murderers. He searched all over the place for nearly two seasons before he found 'em, off to the east near the sea and causin' more trouble.

They were attacking a small group of creatures, 'vermin' like us mainly, though there were a few hares along. It was fifteen of ours and three Long Patrol against one of the biggest pirate crews ever t' set sail- nearly threescore of the scum. Even with some of our most dangerous fighters along, they were outnumbered and massacred.

Raeyari was leader of the group- everybeast, even the hares, trusted her completely and she'd never led them wrong. At the time, she was Rin's second in command as well, an' he don't choose lightly for positions like that. It didn't pay to cross her, mate.

But she was no match alone for half the crew at once. Thirty Corsairs, all armed to the teeth and no strangers to killin'. She was the last one they kept alive; they knew she was the leader an' they wanted some fun.

By the time Arif had arrived, he said, there were deadbeasts from both sides lyin' everywhere and Rae was on the ground, unconscious and covered in blood. It seemed as though her body couldn't take any more of the torture, and she'd simply passed out. The crew was all drunk by now, an' they were flicking lit embers onto her from the fire, laughin' as her fur began to burn.

That's when Arif came in. Accordin' to him, he slew two of 'em on the spot before the rest figured out what was happenin', and attacked. But they were drugged and confused, and made easy prey for a vengeful warrior, especially one as good with a blade as Arif. Only about ten escaped, racing in all directions. Afterwards he took a battle-axe from one of the dead Corsairs and smashed the ship up good, so they couldn't come back and sail away. He was going to keep traveling, when he saw Rae was still alive. She was ripped and bleeding in a hundred places, and where she wasn't slashed, patches of fur and even flesh had been burned off by the embers.

He tried tending to her wounds, but he was no healer and nothing seemed to happen. They stayed at that spot for a long time: Arif buried the dead, built a camp and searched for food, while Rae slowly began to recover.

When she was able to walk, they decided to head for Salamandastron. She was completely mute, probl'y from shock, but she drew a map in the sand with her paw and guided him in the right direction as they traveled.

Finally they reached the mountain, and Arif was accepted into the 'Tide. Rae obviously couldn't keep her position, so they promoted Tokala instead. It was a good decision- a craftier and more determined vixen than her you've yet to meet.

Anyhow, Rae's body recovered, but her mind hasn't. She still never talks, never shows any emotions but grief or fear. She eats rarely and sleeps even less- once I stayed up with her all night and she just looked out the window, staring up at the stars until dawn.

We were all expecting her to give up and head for Dark Forest, but she survived, if you can call what her life is surviving.

Well, that's the story, mate," Sakhyo concluded. "Hope I answered at least one of yer questions."

However, one thing still puzzled the stoat. "So everybeast just believed the fox's side of the story? If one of my mates was injured like that, I'd be lookin' for more pieces of the puzzle. "

Sakhyo thought for a moment. "Huh, now that I think about it, it is a little odd, but Rae can't-or won't-give her version, an' Arif is nice enough, Kan. I hope he ain't made a bad impression on ya, he's mean t'everybeasr 'cept Tokala and Rin." She grinned and clapped him on the shoulder as she rose from her seat. "Anyhow, cheer up, frogface. It's time fer dinner."

Tokala leapt to open the door, and the Shadowtide was left staring dumbly in the wake of the starving Kan; the wind stirred by his passing rippling around their headfur as the sound of his pounding paws receded up the passage.

* * *


	5. Developments

**Disclaimer: All the characters are mine. The Redwall world is not mine. Neither is the small reference to "Outcast Of Redwall" in this chapter. I wish that was mine, because it's a really cool story, but BJ thought of it first.**

* * *

Kasivar woke to a world that was cramped, dark, and nearly airless. Instinctively, she began to panic, and she tried quickly to sit up, only to hit her head painfully on the curved wooden ceiling. It became obvious to the Corsair that somehow she had been trapped under the upturned jollyboat. Gritting her teeth and angling her body toward one side of the vessel, she shoved hard. The boat flipped onto its side, freeing her and crashing down onto the shore. Panting slightly, the weasel Captain sat up and surveyed her new surroundings.

A few feet away, down a gentle slope, the ocean lapped quietly at the pebbled beach. Turning to face inland, she saw a few island trees, but mostly scrubland, punctuated in spots by immense rocky outcrops. There were no fresh water or food sources in sight. Not exactly paradise.

With a sigh, Kasivar stood, checked her waist sash to reassure herself that she was not weaponless, and padded off across the sand.

* * *

The spy could feel his headfur beginning to singe from his close proximity to the fire, but he dared not rise from his prostrate stance or raise his eyes to meet those of his master's. He remained in the kneeling position, face pressed against the dust, awaiting his turn to speak. The grating voice was harsh upon his ears.

"What news? How goes my plan?"

The tawny weasel raised his head just enough to speak, keeping his eyes on the ground. "Lord, I followed him every step of the way. There was a minor incident with the battalion I sent to escort him, but he reached the stripedog mountain without incident."

The warlord growled pleasurably. "Yarr, good. If this t'ing really exists, he will have infiltrated it by now. And what of my deserter?"

"Lord, I know nothing of any deserter. I have been away for three full seasons, carrying out your orders." He closed his eyes in fear, hoping against hope the master would know he spoke the truth. He had served horde leaders before, and they were a paranoid lot, always watching for any hint of rebellion.

"Yes, you are right," the warlord said finally. "The weak fool ran off two seasons ago. When you have rested, you are to find him and bring him to me. He will learn the price of cowardice!"

The weasel was half-dead with exhaustion and fear, but he stood and bowed deeply. "As ye wish, Lord." With that, he turned away and exited the tent, shuddering as he felt the burning stare at his back.

* * *

Kan had been blindly charging through the mountain in desperate search of the dining hall, when his progress came to an abrupt halt. His footpaws pedaled frantically in midair; the strength of the other beast's restraining paw had actually lifted him slightly off the floor. With a sinking heart, he stopped struggling and looked up at his captor. It was the hare sergeant, and he seemed none too pleased.

Sergeant Merrond lowered the stoat to the floor, still keeping a firm grip on his shoulder. His gruff roar made the younger animal cringe, ears and tail lowered submissively.

"How in blazes did you get loose? That blasted coyote and his rabble couldn't keep an eye on you after all, eh? Just what I expected. 'Is Lordship was barking mad forming that Shadowthing in the first place, I always knew it. Letting 'good' vermin fight for our mountain... huh! There ain't no such thing as a well-meanin' vermin." The sergeant grunted in disgust, then returned to the topic at hand.

"What are ye doin' here anyway, stoat, racing about like a madbeast? Tryin' to escape, I'll bet. Come on, laddie buck, out with it!" he bellowed, when Kan did not immediately respond.

"No, sir," Darikan said boldly, looking the furious hare straight in the eyes. "I'm starvin', and I don't have a damn clue where the food is in this place." Much to his surprise, the sergeant laughed and released his shoulder. "Less of the language if ye please, laddie, but I 'ears ye just the same. Just like all me new recruits, you are- no concern but yore stomach. I'll h'escort you t' the mess."

As they walked, something from the hare's tirade had been puzzling Kan. " 'Scuse me, sir..." he began.

Sergeant Merrond stopped and turned in the stoat's direction. "Wot is it?" he grunted.

"Sir, you said that His Lordship invented this Shadowtide thing? Who was that?"

"That was th' Badger Ruler back in those seasons, Tyr Ravenfrost, but 'e liked everybeast t' call him Lord Raven. Said his parents were 'opeless romantics and they should've known better on the namin' front, wot."

Kan chuckled. "Did you know 'im, sir?"

The hare sighed. "Nay, laddie, he was gone a few seasons afore I was born, but from all accounts he was a strange one. It would seem that one year, a huge vermin army attacked Salamandastron. Nothin' new there, wot, but this was a fearsome one. Plus, most of the experienced Long Patrol was out on scoutin' missions, since we'd had nought but peace for a long time.

Anyhow, no matter what the Badger Lord tried, the hares he had left were literally bein' massacred. They wre either too young or too old to handle themselves in a battle, and soon the horde was knockin' at the doors. He went out raging, in full Bloodwrath, but he only did for about a fifth of 'em before he was nearly overpowered and killed. Then, as I heard it, a miracle happened. Fivescore Long Patrol came chargin' back, along with an army of woodlanders- otters, shrews, squirrels. Lord Raven broke free, and together they killed the leader and drove the horde away.

But that battle changed him, it seems. He never came under the Bloodwrath's spell again, and instead of brute force he began to consider tactics to defeat his enemies. One of the hares who came back to the rescue had visited Redwall Abbey while scouting, and during her stay they'd told her a strange tale: of a ferret that had been raised there and then exiled for commiting a crime, but in the end he saved one of the young Abbeydwellers from death.

An' that story got 'Is Lordship to wondering- what if there were more of these 'good' vermin? They could be brought to Salamandastron, trained as fighters, and slip into attacking hordes. You see, after the war he'd nearly died in, he wished to protect his hares at all costs. Seeing creatures you care about slaughtered can do that to a creature. Still, strangest ol' badger ever to lead the mountain in my opinion, wot."

They continued down the passage and up a flight of stairs. Kan was left feeling even more confused, as he tried to comphrend this new story. Whatever he was now a part of, it had a long and confusing history.

* * *

Kan's first sight of the 'mess' caused him to decide it was aptly named. It was a huge chamber, cut into sections by many long rock tables that ran almost from one end of the room to the other, with space near the door for creatures to move around. A large opening on one side of the room had also been left clear; hares in kitchen uniforms were rushing in and out of it nonstop, carrying trays, trolleys, and cauldrons out to the starving diners. Aromatic steam curled promisingly from some of their burdens, others were full of delicious-looking breads and salads. The entire place was also packed to the ceiling with yelling, laughing, fighting hares.

The combined action was beginning to make the young stoat's head spin, and it was with some difficulty that he managed to focus on a familiar figure waving him over from a table by the windows, grinning cheerfully. Without waiting for the sergeant's permission, Darikan went bounding over to his friend.

No sooner had Kan settled into his seat near Rinqan and Sakhyo than the mink leapt up and roared, "Hoi, mates, food's here!" A small stack of stone bowls clattered onto the table, quickly followed by large bowls of stew, trays heaped with small loaves of fresh bread, and a huge platter of salad. Another hare came racing by and dropped off tankards full of mountain ale, before hurrying away once more.

Filling his bowl to the brim with the rich vegetable stew and seizing three of the crispy little loaves, Kan dug into the food like a starving wolf. The mountain fare was delicious but quite filling, and the stoat found he could not completely finish his second helping, hungry as he'd been. Sakhyo saw him relax and look up from his meal, and took the opportunity to ask, "Hey, Kan ole mate, where were ya? Everybeast's supposed t' report fer dinner right after sunset, no matter when the food gets 'ere."

Darikan yawned. "I got lost, for one thing, and then I ran into that officer hare, Merrind or wotever 'e's called. 'E told me some things about this Tide army I'm s'posed to be a part of now."

Arif's eyes narrowed. "What did d'longears tell ye, stoat?"

"Why is it any of your business?" Sakhyo muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes.

"Just how it was invented an' all," Kan replied, confused. "Somethin' about a great war, an' a stripedog called Lord Raven. Huh, that's odd enough, I thought stripedogs were always out to kill creatures like us."

"I have heard of Lord Tyr Ravenfrost," Rinqan interrupted quietly. "A unique badger, by all means, but still a fearsome warrior in his own right."

Arif grunted and turned his back, evidently finished with the conversation.

Kan yawned again, wider this time, causing the coyote to smile. "Here be something not so unique- a creature in need of sleep. Come, we should all be getting to bed."

Sakhyo took her friend by the paw, pulling him upright. "Cummon, lazybones, I ain't doin' yer walkin' for ya. Yer sleepin' in the 'Tide barracks, along wid everyone else."

* * *

The small group walked for a while in relative silence, crossing hallways and going down several flights of stairs before they reached a large wooden door. Producing a key from the pocket of his coat, Rinqan unlocked it and they filed inside.

Inside, it was much smaller than the hidden chamber or the mess hall, but still relatively spacious and lit by many lanterns burning in wall sconces. Three of the walls were honeycombed with large niches hewn into the bare stone.

Stepping closer to one of the holes, Kan saw that it was easily big enough to comfortably hold a creature stretched out full length, even one of the coyote's size. A mattress-like pad lay in the bottom, surmounted by a pillow and woven blanket; through a rip in the pad's lining the young stoat could see a mixture of dried moss and down poking out. A paw on his shoulder made him start and whirl around, although it was only the vixen Tokala. "Jumpy little stoat, ain't ya?" she laughed.

"Sorry..." Kan muttered, slightly incensed at her. "Did I take yer bed?"

She grinned and shook her head. "Nah, ye can have that bunk. Mine's over there, nex' ter old Arif." Putting a paw to one side of her muzzle and leaning in conspiratorially, she whispered, "He's a terrible snorer, too. Rin must still be mad at me for scarin' ye with the door this afternoon t' punish me like that, eh?" She laughed and walked off across the room as the stoat grinned to himself, deciding that Tokala was not quite so annoying as he'd thought.

A few ladders of varying sizes were scattered across the barracks; having no climbing skills whatsoever, Kan selected one and climbed up into his bunk. The mattress was quite soft, and the woven quilt was warm and comfortable. Almost before he knew it, the young stoat was sound asleep, worn out by his long and enigmatic day. There would be time to puzzle over things in the morning.

* * *

**A/N: Whew, pretty long chapter! By the way, did you know "Sakhyo" is "mink" in a Native American language? Thank you, Internet! Speaking of names, consider my note in chapter 1. Anyway, please continue to review since I really enjoy feedback. Thanks everyone for your support!**


	6. Training

Kan's awakening the following morning was, to say the least, eventful. The young stoat abruptly fell out of his bunk with a screech as a good-natured voice roared, "G'mornin, lazybones!" in his ear.

Sitting up, Kan glared at the two Sakhyos that were smiling cheerily at him from atop the ladder. He shook his head and the double vision cleared, although the pain of crash-landing on a hard stone floor stubbornly remained.

Looking out the window, he saw that the sun was only just rising, and most of the stars were still out, unaffected by the vague pinkish glow. "Bloody hell," he snarled. "What time is it? And where is everybeast?" he added, seeing that aside from him and Sakhyo, the room was deserted.

The mink laughed, leapt down from the ladder, and swung him upright. "Time for yer trainin' ter start, Kan, that's wot time 'tis!"

The young stoat barely had time to squeak, "Training?" before Sakhyo grabbed him and forcibly marched him out the door.

* * *

Shortly afterward, the two young creatures stood outside the great mountain. A breathtaking vista of sea and sky stretched out toward the horizon, lit by the warm glow of the rising sun. The golden rays of light reflected into the ocean rippled gently with the movement of the waves.

Mesmerized by the beautiful scene before him, Kan did not notice that his friend had disappeared from his side.

A swift and powerful blow to the back of his head sent him face-first into the sand. Spitting out grit, he struggled to rise, but his foe was applying considerable pressure to the nape of his neck and he remained immobile.

Without warning the force was released, and in an eyeblink Kan was flipped onto his back with a curved knife held to his throat.

He opened his eyes, expecting the Corsair weasel at least, but the only two creatures in his field of vision were shockingly familiar. Rinqan was standing coolly by, taking in everything, as Sakhyo shifted her grip on the knife.

* * *

After what seemed like an eternity, the coyote nodded and Sakhyo removed the blade. She tried to help Kan upright, but he swatted the proffered paw away and leapt up, his gaze radiating disbelief and anger.

To his further displeasure, when Rinqan spoke, his voice held a poorly disguised amusment. "You must be ready for this situation at any time, Darikan. A foe may sneak up on you just like this, or you may have to do the same to them. Speed and stealth are the keys if you wish to fight in the Shadowtide."

As his intended lesson became apparent, Kan's fury cooled somewhat, although he was still annoyed at being caught so off guard. "All right," he grumbled. "What d' we do now?"

Sakhyo laughed. "Now yer gonna really start trainin', mate!" As she spoke, Rinqan drew a long, straight knife from his belt and tossed it toward the stoat. Catching it by the simple bronze handle, Kan was surprised to recognize it as his own. "Where'd yer find this?"

"One of d' wave vermin we slew had it thrust in his belt," the coyote answered. "After we captured you, I reckoned it was yours- it has not the make of a Corsair blade. Now that you have a weapon, it is time to begin."

Without further ado, Kan was set his first task: Sakhyo sat on a rock near the shoreline with her back to her two friends, obliviously swigging from a flask and chomping away at a scone. Trying to silence his pawsteps(as well as his stomach, which was snarling audibly at the sight of the food), the young stoat tried to prowl up behind Sakhyo and attack in the same way she'd surprised him earlier.

He had scarcely gone two paces when she whirled around, drew her own knife, and leapt at him. In an embarassingly short time, Kan was pinned to the ground once more, and Sakhyo pressed her blade gently into his throat fur, grinning.

"Huh, looks like yer dead, mate. Hordebeasts always gotta weapon of some sort- y'hafta move faster afore they turn the tables on ya. Try it again." She released him and allowed him to retrieve his knife from where it had fallen, then resumed her seat on the rock.

By the time noon arrived, Kan felt as though he had been performing the exercise all his life. Each time, he could go two, possibly three steps before Sakhyo noticed him. His temper was nearing the breaking point, as was Rinqan's- a barely concealed growl lingered in the coyote's voice as he watched yet another failed attempt.

After he was released the next time, an idea suddenly struck him. He waited the couple of seconds that it took for the mink to stand up and turn around. As she trotted back to the rock, he drew his knife and pounced.

Not expecting the attack, Sakhyo turned halfway around in surprise, then fell on her back in the sand, cursing. Kan was just going to indicate defeat when she shoved hard with all four paws, catapulting the stoat off of her.

"Excellent nevertheless," Rinqan announced. "You learn more quickly then I thought. Do it again."

It would turn out to be Kan's only success of the day, although his companions were reasonably pleased. As they headed back inside the mountain, Sakhyo laughed and nudged him hard in the side. "More o' the same t'morrow, Kan. Ain't that nice, mate, ya got somethin ter look forward to!" His groan as he forced his aching muscles into a walk was drowned out by her cheerful laughter .

* * *

The warlord sat outside his tent, looking off into the distance. The stripedog mountain, huge as it was, was a mere dot on the horizon. He growled softly. At this rate, they would not reach it until next winter. And they must arrive before autumn's end, or be forced to launch a siege in the snow. Cold and starvation could bring down even the mightiest of hordes more swiftly than any living enemy.

Over the passing seasons, the warlord had grown increasingly unpredictable, prone to murderous rages that could erupt at any time. His anger had always been with him, a hot coal inside his mind that blotted out all emotions but bloodlust, but in the period of time that had begun with the exile of his brother its power had flared, feeding off his hatred and murderous ambition. He carried out conquest after conquest, till all of the Northwest lands, from the border with the lands of snow and ice down to the fringes of the woodlands called Mossflower, were under his control.

The memory was fully awakened now as he stormed about his tent. If only he had been warlord then! His brother was a soft-hearted coward, a cringing worm unfit to live. Why had he been spared? An exile into the wilderness was as good as a death sentence, true, but his species was strong. They could adapt to any situation, surviving through all odds. His brother was alive, he was certain.

He needed a stronghold. The one talent his sibling possessed, that had somehow gotten him elevated to a position in the horde above his own, was that of eloquence, combined with a certain skill in tactics. Any soldier that heard his voice could be inspired to fight and die for any cause, no matter how insane.

Then his brother would have an army of some size, no doubt. But no horde could rival his, and nobeast could defeat its leader in combat.

"Soon, brother," he snarled exultantly, eyes blazing with bestial rage. "Soon."


	7. Enemies

As the days went on, Kan's training expanded, and each able member of the little group contributed to his lessons. Sakhyo continued to teach him the art of surprise attacks, while Tokala instructed him in stealth and camouflage. The sessions went relatively well at first, since his teachers were patient despite his many errors, but soon a day arrived that Kan had been dreading.

That morning, he was not awakened by Sakhyo's cheerful greeting, but by a powerful paw wrenching him up into a sitting position. "Get up, stoat," a voice snarled. "Rinqan says I'm to teach ye 'ow to use a blade, waste of time though dat is."

_Arif,_ Kan thought angrily. _I'd rather be awakened by the foebeast!_

The young stoat leapt out of his bunk, shaking the fox's grip off of his shoulder as he pulled on his clothes. Arif watched with disapproval. "Move! D' enemy will be at our doors 'fore ye be ready!"

* * *

Rinqan was waiting on the shore as usual, but this time the coyote was holding a pair of swords. "Today, Kan, you are to learn bladework. We will start with the sabre." He reversed one of the blades and the stoat took the proffered hilt, seething with anger as Arif accepted the other.

"Go on," the big fox snapped. "Face me." Kan reluctantly moved into a position opposite his new mentor. Already he could tell this lesson was going to be a disaster- the sword was a relatively light one, but he was still unaccustomed to wielding a weapon this size, whereas Arif was an expert.

_If this was a real battle,_ Kan realized in dismay, _I wouldn't stand a chance._

"What are ye waitin' for, lunk'ead? Strike!" Arif roared.

Hurriedly, Kan lunged forward, slashing clumsily with the sabre and missing completely. "Idiot!" the fox snarled. "Pick it up an' try again. This time, parry my attack."

Arif's blade flickered to the right. Kan raised his own sword, but he sliced thin air as the fox's sabre came swinging in from the other direction, clashing into his own and sending it spinning off across the sand. He had been completely taken in by the feint. As the young stoat furiously bent to pick up the fallen blade, he felt a stinging pain across his flanks. Arif had whipped him with the flat of his sabre.

"Did I tell ye t' pick it up? I'd sooner surrender than trust ye around a weapon, stoat," he snapped, and lashed him again. Any further ranting was ended when Rinqan strode towards them, evidently furious.

"If you whip that stoat one more time, fox, there won't be a shred of hide on your miserable body by the time I'm done with ye. Kan is new here, he has 'ad no real training until now. Ye really expect him to know how to fight in a few days? Away with ye now, Arif. If you turn on your fellows like this all the time, you'll have me to reckon with."

Unexpectedly, Arif laughed. "Oh no, coyote, you're mistaken. I'm very loyal to my 'fellows,' as ye put it. Your little pet stoat is safe from me. I hope ye enjoy tryin' to train 'im. In a few days you'll come to your senses an' leave 'im out for de carrion birds. Dat's about the only thing he's good for." Still laughing, the fox turned and headed back into the mountain.

Kan stood on the shore, overcome by rage and shock. When Rinqan laid a paw on his shoulder, the young stoat turned around with a snarl, recoiling from the touch. "He's mad! By the Hellgates, if I get the chance..." He trailed off, lost for words and shaking with anger.

"Calm yourself, Kan," the coyote said quietly. "Your friend told you the story of what Arif went through. I would not be surprised if it has affected his judgement. But just to be safe, I will continue his lessons myself, starting now. Pick up that sabre."

Kan groaned. Apparently breakfast, or by this time lunch, had been forgotten.

* * *

In one afternoon, Kan learned more about swordplay from the coyote than he had ever known in his life. Once it was firmly established that he was hopeless with the sabre, Rinqan tried him out on a succession of blades, from broadswords to rapiers, even experimenting with the cutlasses and scimitars that were used more by searats and the like than honest warriors. Tokala and Sakhyo were kept busy as well, racing from training ground to armory and back again with new selections.

Eventually, Kan decided on a simple curved blade, which had been lying forgotten in a corner of the armory until Tokala discovered it. It was light enough for him to handle easily, but still strong enough to inflict serious damage in a fight.

He was taught the mechanics of footwork, thrusts, parries, feints, attacks and counterattacks. With the proper guidance, the young stoat proved to be a fast learner, even managing to disarm Rinqan once towards the end of the lesson.

The small group headed back inside the mountain, ready for a bath and a meal. Kan was sweating, fatigued, and starving, but as he pawed the hilt of the sword now resting in his belt and bantered with his friends, he had never felt happier.

* * *

Night had arrived, and the base of Salamandastron was wreathed in shadows, untouched by the moonlight that bathed the rest of the mountain in its silvery glow. The tawny weasel padded silently over the sand and stopped by the side of the monolith and leaned his shoulder against the cold stone, hidden by the darkness.

He had heard no pawsteps, but without warning a sharp pressure was applied to the back of his neck, presumably the edge of a knife or sword. The voice that came from behind him was just cold and merciless as the blade. "Talk fast if you'd like to keep your head."

Continuing to stare straight in front of him, the weasel made no attempt to move, nor did he raise his voice above the soft monotone.

"The Lord craves news, spy. You have been here for nearly three seasons. Have you found this army yet?"

The voice chuckled. "Aye, I found the army. I doubt you could have done as much, weasel." The tones abruptly turned cruel, but did not lose their note of amusement. "Tell our master that I'll be returning with two things: one deserter... and his precious wayward brother."

The force at his neck was released, and the weasel raced forward with an uncommon burst of speed. He was urged not on only by his orders, but also by a fervent desire to get away from the insane laughter that resounded into the still autumn night.

* * *

He entered the camp at dawn and was shocked at what he saw. The camp was comepletely gone; the firepits extinguished and filled in, the tents packed away. The entire horde was standing at stiff attention at the clearing's edge, the battalions held in line by their respective Captains as they waited for orders from the creature pacing back and forth at their head. 

He approached the silent ranks and was immediately apprehended by a tall ferret. "Good, yer here," he snapped. "Lord Razorclaw's in no mood to talk to worthless beasts like you. Whatever you have ter say can be told to me, right 'ere and now."

Glaring dislike at the ferret Captain, the weasel bowed slightly and made his report. The Captain laughed and strode off. "Perfect. I'll go and tell him now. Huh, by me sword, I'd love ter see 'is brother and that runaway once the Razorclaw's done wid 'em. Won't be enough left t' bury!"

The warlord laughed when he heard the news, a harsh, rasping sound that frightened everybeast within hearing range. Throwing back his head, he howled at the sky and roared, "To the mountain!"

His horde yelled back. "Razorclaaaaaaaaaaw! Kill! Kill! Kill!" A dustcloud sprang up across the plain and drumbeats rang through the clear morning air as the massive army marched south out of the shadows of the cliffs. Straight toward Salamandastron.


	8. The Task Begins

Kan was on the shore with Sakhyo, eating breakfast and competing to see who could skip a stone the farthest into the waves. The young stoat was enjoying the break from his grueling training immensely, even though none of his tries even came close to his friend's, since the mink had grown up around water. After a particularly devastating loss, Sakhyo deftly snatched an oat scone off his lap and began munching on it. "Hey!" he protested.

"Winner's spoils, mate," she laughed. Kan growled good-naturedly and laid back, reclining on the sand. She flicked a crumb at him. "Gerrup already. D'you ever do anythin' else but eat and sleep?"

"Lose at skipping stones," he quipped. "We never had anythin' like that where I was from." The mink gave him an odd look.

"Where _are _you from, anyway?" she asked. Kan abruptly sat up, but stared at the ground and didn't answer. "Kan?" There was still no response.

The increasingly tense atmosphere was broken when a tall shape came charging over the dunes and abruptly collapsed at their footpaws.

It was a young hare, one Kan recognized as having left on a scouting mission a few days previously. He was obviously exhausted, but still able to talk once Sakhyo gave him a flask of cordial.

"Been runnin' for a full day an' night, wot," he gasped, coughing weakly. " Saw 'em from a distance...Tell...Sarge Merrond... horde's...three days away... an movin' fast." With that, the poor creature's eyes rolled up to the whites and he fell back on the sand.

* * *

The entire Shadowtide was gathered in the secret room, together with Sergeant Merrond and another higher-ranking hare, a female introduced as General Ixora. Rinqan looked around the table, his voice as soft and calm as always. "Does anybeast know of this horde?" 

"P'raps it's the one we 'eard tales about," Sakhyo suggested. "Y'know, from the rumors before Rae...y'know..." The coyote stared grimly back at her.

"I remember those tales. A huge army, led by a creature the likes of which nobeast had ever seen..." Something unreadable flickered in his normally impassive golden eyes, but disappeared as the sergeant broke in on the conversation.

"I don't care 'ow many they are, laddie buck, or wotever new 'ellspawn's leadin' 'em. With your liddle group, and our hares, they don't stand a chance!" Kan, Tokala, and Sakhyo cheered, only to be silenced by a severe glare from the hare General.

"Stop this foolish talk, Sarge. Yes, we're well equipped t' deal with vermin, no offense t' the present company, but we can't treat our foes as soft and stupid. Many a battle's been lost by underestimatin' the enemy, wot." Merrond's ears drooped slightly, and he grumbled to himself as Ixora continued. "We should infiltrate them as soon as possible, so that we can learn of their plans before they attack us. You, coyote, wotever yore name is, I believe y' know what to do."

The coyote inclined his head respectfully. "Aye, Gen'ral. Now, listen well, my brave creatures. You will leave here in pairs, so that it will seem less suspicious. Either allow yourselves to be captured or go to join the horde on your own, but do not arrive within less than two days of each other. Understood?" Heads nodded around the room, and he went on. "Tokala, you will go with Arif. If necessary, tell them you are mates." Arif seemed quite displeased at the notion, and the vixen imploringly raised her eyes to the ceiling before melodramatically collapsing onto the table. "Sakhyo, you are to go with Kan. You will leave tomorrow." The two friends grinned happily at each other, but as usual, Arif interrupted.

"You cannot be serious! Even if he 'ad any talent as a fighter or a spy, he's barely trained. It's suicide to let dat thick-skulled whelp on such an important mission."

The growl that came from the coyote sent the entire room into a frightened silence. His golden eyes were alight with anger, and his lips were drawn back to reveal an imposing set of fangs. In a voice like thunder, he snarled, "I have warned ye once already, fox. I say this stoat will go, and if ye continue to act like this I'd say ye were far more thick-skulled than him."

The big fox snorted and rose from his seat. Larger than most of his species and well-muscled, he made a formidable opponent, but he was still nowhere near the coyote's size. He subsided, but still had to have the last word. "Fine, O wise leader," he snapped mockingly. I'll be waitin' to hear what will come from dat silver tongue of yours when your precious stoat's da one that kills us all!"

* * *

Long after the rest of the group had gone to the barracks, Kan and Rinqan were still seated at the table, with the lanterns burning low and the remnants of a hurried meal lying before them. Although Arif's outburst had enraged the coyote, he still knew that there was a grain of truth in it. One false move could send the fates of everybeast in the mountain crashing down around their ears.  
And so, late into the night, Kan began to learn just what it meant to fight in the Shadowtide.

* * *

Kan felt as though he had barely slept for an hour when Sakhyo woke him. Outside, it was still completely dark, and raining as well from what he could hear. The mink was fully dressed and bearing a traveling pack, with a short sword in her waist sash and a dagger close to paw. He was surprised to see that she had discarded her normal tunic for clothes that were little more than tattered rags, ripped and dirtied in a score of places. Her normally sleek fur was disheveled and slightly muddy, and with stained claws and teeth completing the disguise, she resembled nothing as much as some scruffy camp follower. Kan was hard put to remember that this was actually his friend, and not a vicious hordebeast. 

He ducked abruptly when she tossed a bundle of fabric at his head. Standing up and unrolling it, he found that it contained clothing, if it could be called that, and a second bulging pack. One item that puzzled him, though, was a blackened, stained scrap of cloth. He held it up gingerly between two claws. "Wot's this?"

"Rub that on yer blade, mate. Hordebeasts may keep their weapons all nice 'n' shiny, but at first we're gonna be rough ol' travelers, who don't sit 'round doin' silly little things like polishing swords. So blacken that up, or it'll look pretty suspicious. Meet me outside near the trainin' ground when yer done." She turned to go as, with a sigh, he pulled on the clothes, and grimaced as he dirtied his sword with the foul rag.

_Stop that, _he chided himself. _You'll never pass for a hordebeast with that attitude- you're supposed to love blood, filth, slaughter, an' all that other crap. _

He finished with the blade and thrust it into the new belt, a shabby affair made from the skin of some long-dead snake. As he exited the barracks and headed back up through the mountain, he suddenly noticed something moving at the end of the hall, a dark shape heading in the same direction as he was, although already much farther ahead. Kan raced up the passage in pursuit of the shadow, and found in amazement that it was the marten Raeyari.

She, too, was dressed in tawdry clothes and bearing a traveling pack. There was no need for her to dirty her pelt for effect, since it was as thin and matted as ever. She spun around upon hearing his pawsteps behind her, and he saw that her eyes had not lost their empty look. To his surprise and confusion, she gave a faint hiss and backed away, with a vague hint of fear flickering in her gaze.

_I must look like a real terrifyin' vermin,_ he figured, _but then again, maybe she's always like this._

_

* * *

_He finally reached the training ground, taking care to keep his distance from the marten on his way there. Sakhyo was impatiently tapping her footpaw, and Rinqan waited by her side. Raeyari padded slowly over to the coyote, acting as though Kan did not exist. "Good, yer here," the mink said cheerily. "Rin's got some more orders for ya, an' then we c'n get goin'." 

"I have decided that it would be best if you were to allow yourselves to be captured," the coyote announced, "since travelers can always pose a threat and if you were willingly pressed into service, they would probably accept you more than if you tried to join the horde on your own." He continued talking, but his voice faded into the background as Kan became lost in thought.

_Why am I doing this?_ he wondered. _How do I know I can walk into that horde, join them, spy for their enemies, and still walk out alive? _

He came back to earth with a jolt of fear. Rinqan was still addressing them, and he tried hard to listen, shaking the troubling thoughts from his mind.

"...I cannot go myself, Sakhyo, for I'm too easily recognized," he said. The mink was grumbling. "Yeah, yeah, so yer stand out in a crowd. Big deal. We need ya with us."

"Your 'big deal' could get everybeast killed, if I am captured and our plans exposed. I have told ye already, I will hide by the camp an' give help if ye need it."

She snorted and turned away. "Fine, wotever. If I'm dead by the time ya come, you'll be the one needin' help, 'cause I'll come back 'n haunt ya. Good huntin', Rin, an' c'mon Kan, it's time ter go." She turned to leave, but as Kan followed, a call rang out from behind them. "Hoi, wotsyername, stoat! Hold hard a second!" It was Tokala.

The vixen came racing up to join them. Kan stared, perplexed, at the pile of earth in her paw. "Stop gawpin' and close yer eyes," she barked, and he obeyed, still very confused as she smeared the dirt over his face.

"What th' hell did yer do that for?" he snapped, impatient to get going. Sakhyo laughed. "Great idea, Toka! Look, stoatface, she covered that mark on yer eye. That way y' won't stand out from the crowd." Kan smiled sheepishly as he realized the vixen's idea.

"Thanks, Tokala. See you soon, I 'ope."

The pair headed off without further ado, into the flatlands of the northwest.

* * *

The horde was marching fast. A distance that a normal army would have covered in three days was being completed in less than two. Stragglers were killed instantly, as were any weak or injured creatures. Thus, it was not long before a scout came racing back to the main body of the horde with news that two travelers were headed in their direction. The warlord ordered one of his Captains to capture them and bring them to the horde's temporary camp, where the final plans of battle were being made. The officer, a big ferret called Rend, set off that very day. Close to a score of his troops accompanied him.

* * *

By nightfall, Kan was beginning to regret his decision. He was extremely nervous about his role in the imminent war, and although he was no stranger to traveling, it seemed as though his paws were worn down to the bone. Dinner, the only meal they'd stopped to have, was a disappointment at best- Rinqan had forbade them from lighting fires, lest it attract unwelcome attention. Everything had been eaten cold, and the bread was rather soggy from when he'd accidentally tripped and dropped the food sack in a puddle. To top it all off, Sakhyo snored uproariously, as he soon discovered. Sleep was apparently out of the question. 

He did not remember closing his eyes, but somehow the young stoat found himself dreaming. He was traveling again, walking across a flat, featureless plain. A cold wind was blowing, sending clouds racing across the sky. Shadows were everywhere, and he did not notice that one of them moved.

A huge figure leapt toward him, swinging a sword. In a sudden blaze of light, Kan briefly saw the features of his attacker before the blade slashed into his throat. He fell back in agony, feeling his life literally slip away. Arif's eyes gleamed mockingly at him as everything went dark.

Drenched in sweat, Kan awoke to find that although the strange landscape and the fox had disappeared, the pain was all too real. He turned his head, although the motion only made the scimitar at his throat bite deeper into fur and flesh. That was nothing, however, compared to the agony of what he saw. Sakhyo lay motionless by his side, deep gashes across her forehead and shoulders still slowly dripping blood onto the ground.

Kasivar Steelwave merely laughed.

* * *

**A/N: BWAHAHAHA! WRITER'S BLOCK, I LAUGH IN YOUR HIDEOUS FACE! I'M BACK! (for the time being) HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA(cough)HAHA! **

* * *


	9. Death and Memory

The warlord was in a foul mood. It was the following morning, and the horde was still going nowhere, waiting for that idiot ferret to return with a pair of worthless vagabonds. But Rend was a valuable fighter, and he had taken a score of others with him. Although the horde was vast, and more than a few creatures had already been killed along the way for failing to keep up, in the Razorclaw's crazed mind the possibility of leaving behind any number of skilled warriors now was nonexistent. His brother could have an army twice the size of his. So until his Captain returned with the travelers, there was nothing to do but sleep, eat, and train for the coming battle. The day dragged on.

* * *

Kan struggled feebly under the Corsair's hold as she leered wickedly at him. "Thought you'd seen th' last of me, eh, liddle stoat? Say, wot's this? Yer face's all dirty- yer momma won't be pleased!" She leaned down and mockingly rubbed the concealing earth off his face, giving a fake gasp of admiration. "Oh, lookit this! Wot a fine liddle stripey markin'. Looks a bit like a scar, don't it?" Her grin widened. "Hows about we make that real?" 

Before he could react, she slashed the scimitar viciously across his face. Kan roared in agony as the view through his right eye turned crimson, than completely black. He tasted something hot and bitter- blood, flowing rapidly down his muzzle into his mouth.

Kasivar actually yawned as she pressed the blade into his throat again. "Huh, yer not much fun at all. Not gonna beg wid me or nothin'?"

Half-blind, furious, and in terrible pain, he knew the end had come.

* * *

The rat came racing down the hill, skidding to a halt at its base and panting with excitement and fatigue. "Cap'n, Cap'n! I found those travelers!" The tall ferret was eating, and was rather annoyed at the interruption. 

"Oh, ye did, did yer? Well, ain't that wunnerful. Push off, fleapelt, I'm takin' me lunch, see!" But the rat persisted, racing up to Rend and actually yanking his shoulder. "But, Cap'n, that ain't all! See, there's a stoat, a weasel wot seems like a pirate, an' some kinda...um..." The rat scratched his tail in confusion. "Well... it looks sorta like a real fluffy weasel, crossed wid a h'otter."

Rising and shaking off the rat's grip, the Captain sneered down at his subordinate. "The sun's gone t' yer 'ead, Jord. A stoat, a pirate weasel, an' a riverdog weasel wot's all fuzzy?" Jord bounced up and down in a frenzy. "Yep, you got it, Cap'n Rend. But ye see, the otter-weasel's dead, an' I fink the stoat is too. The pirate- well, she's a piratess I guess ye'd say- wuz holdin' a blade to 'is neck, an' there's blood all over 'is face."

"Quit yer jiggin', idiot!" Rend bellowed. The rat settled nervously down as the Captain continued. "Look, addlebrain, I don't care which of these travelers is crow vittles an' which ain't. My orders are to bring 'em back. So lead me to 'em quiet-like, an' we'll take all the live ones. Now where are they?"

"Jus' over the hill here, then ye walk about a half-mile thisaways..." With Jord happily leading the way, the weary hordebeasts got to their paws and reluctantly followed their Captain. More than one questioned their warlord's judgement, sending them off after feuding wanderers when there was plunder and a mountain stronghold for the taking. Not out loud, of course; Rend had his orders, and there was always the chance he might overhear.

* * *

With a sinking heart, Kan realized that death would not be as quick as he'd thought. The weasel was dragging out her victory as long as possible, occasionally inflicting small cuts when the mood took her, and laughing the whole time, but none of the wounds were enough to finish him off. Fervently, he wished that they would be. Darkness stole in around him, and as his senses blurred and the vision in his remaining eye grew dim, he welcomed it.

* * *

He expected to see the gates of Dark Forest, but the scene before him was a familiar one. It was the old camp, deep in the grip of night. Fires were burning down to the embers; he could smell the smoke and even hear the snores as the hordebeasts dozed by them or in their tents. He found himself moving, padding silently through the sleeping ranks with a lantern, a small sack of stolen food, and a dagger. He halted by the biggest tent. Inside it was utterly silent; he had no way of knowing whether its occupant was awake. He did not want to enter and find out. Taking care to keep his pawsteps light and quiet, he passed by, but in doing so he neglected to notice the sentry, lying sprawled outside the tent and snoring drunkenly at his post. 

He tripped over the rat, falling on top of him with a loud thump. As he hurriedly scrambled off, he sentry sprang up, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Eh, huh, who goes there? 'Ey, yew, wot are yew up to?" he demanded, blearily making out the silhouette of the stoat. Not stopping to answer, Kan hit him over the head with the lantern. One of the small glass panes shattered, but it had the desired effect. The rat collapsed back onto the ground with a moan, and he ran as the tent flap swished open and the grating snarl rang out.

"What in the blazing Hellgates is going on out here? Hey, you! Where are you going? Get back here, or I'll flay you alive!" Footpaws desperately pounding the dust, he raced away, not daring to look back at his pursuers.

* * *

He was brought back to reality by a shocked growl and the immediate clash of steel on steel. He barely managed to sit up, turning his head to see out of the good eye, and nearly passed out once more. 

_This can't be happening! _he thought. He shook his head, wincing at the resulting pain, but the vision remained. With blood still trickling from her wounds and the light of battle in her eyes, Sakhyo seemed to have risen from the dead as she fought. Her strikes seemed to come from every direction to the confused stoat, but the Corsair was agile enough to evade most of them. Her scimitar wove flickering patterns in the air as she feinted, dodged, and slashed, and more than once Kan watched a new cut appear on his friend's body, or an older one being reopened. The mink seemed to have the losing paw.

With horror, Kan saw Sakhyo trip and fall. Kasivar was almost upon her when, desperately scrabbling in the dust, the mink flung a pawful of dirt straight into her enemy's eyes. With an un-Corsair-like yelp, the weasel staggered back, clawing at her face. "Ye liddle worm, I'll skin yer fer that!" she snarled, waving her blade about wildly.

Sakhyo's eyes widened in horror as the Corsair continued with her bloody threats, pawing the grit from her eyes in time to see the mink turn around and run. With a cry of triumph, Kasivar leapt toward her foe's exposed back, swinging the scimitar.

A split second before the weasel struck, Sakhyo whirled around with the short sword ready in one paw and a dagger in the other. Both weapons sliced deep into the Corsair's throat, but with her last ounce of strength she managed to slash into Sakhyo's chest, fortunately away from the heart. Sakhyo raised her dagger and stabbed again, and the weasel's grip finally slackened. The scimitar clattered to the ground.

Blood gushed from the Corsair's torn throat as she tried to snarl an insult. The hideous sound gradually died away, and Kasivar Steelwave glared up at her killer through sightless eyes.

The stained weapons dropped from the mink's paws as she staggered over to Kan. Collapsing by his side once more, she gave a weak smile and murmured, "Got 'er, mate... Hey, who's that?"

He turned his head to see a lone figure heading quickly in their direction.

* * *

**A/N: Bleh. I think I kind of suck at battle scenes. If you have any ideas on how to make it cooler, put it in your review or PM me. I'll listen.**


	10. Capture

Kan struggled to his footpaws as the creature advanced. It was running now, evidently quite eager to reach them. A surge of fear swept through him as he realized his own weakness; he was half-blind, injured, and unarmed. Sakhyo was little better, and as he heard the desperate little scrabbles of her claws in the dirt, he knew she couldn't even manage to stand up.

When it was only a short distance away, the figure halted and began bouncing about like a madbeast, yelling in a shrill, piercing voice. "I found 'em, Cap'n! Over heeeere!"

In the next instant, a score of fully armed hordebeasts had swarmed into the camp and completely surrounded them.

Strangely, there was an immediate silence. The only sounds were soft metallic _clinks _as the soldiers shifted their weapons, and the soft buzzing of insects in the surrounding grass. Beside him, Sakhyo lay still and silent; whether she was conscious or even alive he didn't know. Blood still trickled sluggishly from his eye, leaving a line of sticky coolness down his face and slowly dripping off the edge of his jaw to stain the dust.

Hordebeasts were shoved left, right, and center as the ferret Captain forced his way through. With a growing sense of dread, Kan recognized Rend, a sadistic creature almost equal to his leader in sheer ferocity. That explained why the troops were so quiet and well-behaved, at least. And Rend was bound to remember_ him_ as well, though perhaps his injury would make a difference.

The Captain spoke, and in his harsh growl there were definite notes of impatience. "All right, wot 'appened here? You, stoat! Speak up!"

"I...we...the..." he stammered, overcome by nervousness and anger. The ferret's frown deepened, and Kan was racking his frozen brain for ideas when a voice came from behind him, and Sakhyo staggered forward.

"Oh, it were 'orrible, sir!" she wept, making it only a few steps before collapsing on the ground once more. "Me 'n my mate, Halek, we was travelin' when that pirate, that's 'er o'er there, sir, ambushed us! Ruined Halek's eye 'n wounded me bad, but t'gether we finished 'er off. We're just pore injured trav'lers, please say you'll help us, brave Captain!"

Rend eyed Kan once more, still rather suspicious, before transferring his gaze to the prone mink. "Halek, eh? What's yer name, ah...female?"

"Neza, sir," she cried, "but I'll be plain ol' dead soon if yer don't help us!"

The Captain's first instinct was to simply finish them off, though perhaps a bit of fun could be had with this Neza first. But his master had requested that they be brought back alive, and presumably untouched as well.

"All right," he barked finally. "I'm in a good mood t'day, so I'll let yer come back an' join our horde. We serve a powerful master, he'll lead us t' all the glory an' plunder yer heart could desire. Mind, yer prisoners now, so try any funny business an' the ants'll be pickin' over yer carcasses!"

The camp lay deserted behind them in record time; Kan barely had time to grab his sword and help Sakhyo to her feet before they were marched away at opposite ends of the ranks, separated by a mass of hordebeasts.

* * *

They marched the entire day without stopping, and as evening fell Kan saw the first of many tents and campfires appear on the horizon, as dark specks and tiny, bright points of light.  
At a snarled order from Captain Rend, the soldiers moved forward at a triple pace. There was no chance to break free and run; a wall of spear carriers surrounded them with every step.

* * *

Hordebeasts glanced up curiously from their drinking and games as the newcomers and their guard entered the camp; but looked away again as they saw the hostages swiftly be brought before the main tent. There was no point to new creatures if they were going to be dead in a short time anyway, and nobeast wished to see on a full stomach what their warlord had in mind for these two. 

The Captain halted his troops and entered the warlord's tent. Muttered growls mixed with the sound of Rend's voice, and soon the ferret returned. "Bring 'em inside," he snapped gruffly. "The Razorclaw thinks they could be spies, and he's not taking any chances. C'mon, you lot, get goin'. You'll know what 'appens when yer hear the screams."

The soldiers scattered to their respective tents. Kan's heart turned to ice, and he felt Sakhyo tremble beside him as they were shoved unceremoniously inside the tent.

* * *

He got one look at its occupant before Rend forced him to his knees, hissing, "Bow, y' mangy dog. Show some respect t' yer new master!" 

A rasping, metallic snarl stopped the ferret in his tracks. "Leave him, Rend. Let him rise, aye, and look well, so he knows what spies and traitors face!"


	11. Warlord

Kan raised his head, the pain of his ruined eye and his other injuries forgotten as he came face-to-face with the demonic horde leader.

The orange gaze seared him to the bone, the burning eyes so full of rage, madness, and a strange hunger. Ferocity was not confined merely to the face; everything about this creature, from the short, hooked claws on his huge paws to the stained fangs showing in an irritated snarl, proclaimed that here was a master predator. The long, many-colored pelt covering his muscular form was ill-cared for, matted and spiky with sweat and what appeared to be old blood.

Beside him, the young stoat felt Sakhyo go rigid with terror. He did not blame her.

"So, stoat," he rasped, the growling voice sending shivers down Kan's spine. "Why do you come here? My scouts tell me ye were headed for our camp."

For the first second or two, his brain was paralyzed in fear. The words issuing from his mouth were disjointed and confused, before he somehow regained control, even managing to slightly alter his voice. "Ah...I...we...Lord, me an' my friend here, we wanted t' join yer horde. We 'eard you was gonna attack that stripedog mountain..."

The huge beast's eyes narrowed. "An' who told you of my plan?" The words were filled with a deathly calm, though there was a noticeable roar lingering just beneath the surface.

Kan cringed. Mistake. Better think fast. "Heard it off another stoat, Lord... My kind's trustworthy, yer honor, they don't tell lies!"

An immediate change came over the warlord, and it did not seem to be a welcome one. He lunged forward, seizing Kan partially by both tattered jerkin and chest fur, so that the young stoat had to suppress a whimper of pain. There was no disguising the snarl in his voice now, and his eyes blazed more than ever with the feverish light of the truly deranged. The questions came hard and fast, forcing his captive to think twice as quickly. "Where was this stoat? When did ye see him? What did he say?"

Where this false information was coming from, Kan had no idea. But the story was there, ready in his mind and flowing off his tongue. Laughing harshly, he replied, "Hah! That one ain't gonna say nothin' no more, yer honor. Right outta 'is mind 'e was, tearin' across our camp like a madbeast. Tried ter steal some o' our food an' attack my pal Neza 'ere, the rotten blackguard, so I put paid to 'im. 'Fore 'e died, I asked 'im some things, if 'e knew where a poor rovin' beast could get some proper vittles an' a warm place ter sleep now an' again. So 'e told me of yer plan, ter capture that wunnerful mountain and control all o' th' southwest coast. "

There was no mistaking the shock in the warlord's voice. "Dead? You are sure? What did 'e look like, this thieving stoat?"

In a flash, Kan realized what his enemy was thinking. He had believed the tale of the imaginary stoat, assuming it to be his deserter and instead mistaking Kan for some other creature- probably due to his injuries and the fact that he had grown a bit in the season or two since he had left. If somebeast had told him that losing his eye in a fight with a Corsair would eventually save his life, he would have assumed them to be quite insane.

With a thoughtful look on his face, the stoat scratched his head for a moment before replying. "Er, he was about my 'eight, I'd say, looked a bit like me too, 'cept 'e had two good eyes an' not near as many injuries. 'Course, that was 'fore he ran into me." He attempted a wicked laugh for added effect.

The warlord laughed as well, an exulting, shrieking snarl. "You shall have your wish, traveler," he said finally. "You have disposed of a deserter from my army, a cowardly, traitorous creature. You almost deserve the rank of a Captain, but that must wait. I must see how you fight, an' there will be a battle to do so within the next few suns."

Kan's relief was short-lived. The deadly claws dug once more into his chest. "But tell me, stoat, have ever you seen a beast like me before?"

He was dragged closer, till their muzzles nearly touched and the carrion scent of the warlord's breath was overwhelming.

Fighting the terror that the orange eyes and pointed fangs commanded, Kan stared back at the huge coyote and stammered, "No, yer honor...never!"

* * *

**A/N: Revelations galore! MWAHAHAHAA! Fear me, ye foolish mortals! There's more on the way, 'cuz I'm on a roll! (howls at the ceiling in delight)**

**P.S: Yeah, the last two chappies have been on the short side, but is this not the best place to stop? How about expressing your emotions and reviewing? Go on, you know you want to.**


	12. Horde

Time seemed to stop as Kan dangled there, suspended painfully by the warlord's claws.

Then he was released, and forgot proper conduct as he trembled on the ground, eyes on the floor.

"Look at me, stoat," the coyote hissed. "Ye seem to have a problem wid that."

Unwillingly, Kan raised his head and met the fierce gaze.

"Now listen, traveler," he continued. "It is good that you have never seen one of my kind before, or I should 'ave suspected you of having...other allegiances."

Something stirred in the young stoat's mind, but fear pushed it away, forcing him to concentrate on the coyote's words.

* * *

**A/N: Well, every villain gets a monologue, so here you are!

* * *

**

Orange eyes narrowed dangerously; deadly fangs showed in a growl. "So forget this not, stoat. I am Ferayor Razorclaw. My species is first among all beasts, and I am the strongest among them. Creatures dare not speak of me, for fear that I will hear it, and find them. I am your lord and master; betrayal or cowardice will cost you your meaningless life."

He nodded, not daring to speak.

"Good," he rasped. "Female, that goes for you as well."

Kan blinked; during the course of the interrogation he had almost forgotten Sakhyo's existence. Now the mink nodded and inclined her head respectfully, saying, "As you wish, Lord Razorclaw. I am yours to command, we will serve nobeast but you!"

The reply was evidently a good one, since although the coyote did not smile, he nodded and as he spoke, his voice had lost much of its fury.

"Now, leave my tent and assume your duties. You will serve under Captain Rend-"

Kan groaned inwardly when he heard this. _Perfect. Just bloody perfect. _

"-who will outfit you with proper uniforms and replace any weaponry you may have surrendered."

Watching Sakhyo out of the corner of his eye, Kan followed her lead as he stood and bowed deeply.

Ferayor Razorclaw's temporarily complacent mood vanished in a heartbeat. "_Well?" _he roared, his voice echoing around the tent. "Must ye stand there gawping all night, or shall I flay some sense into the pair of ye?"

Without further ado, they bowed once more, and raced out into the night.

* * *

Rend was waiting outside the tent, and though he raised his eyebrows upon seeing them still alive, he did not waste time in grabbing them by their scruffs to halt their mad dash into the open. 

"Hold 'ard there, lunk'eads. Yer ain't goin' nowhere. I 'eard the Lord's decision, yer gonna serve under me, and when Razorclaw ain't around yer followin' nobeast's orders but mine. Now come wid me ter my tent, I got yer outfits 'n weapons."

With a mutual sigh, Kan and Sakhyo followed the tall ferret as he marched off to the Captains' tents. They were lined up in a row next to Razorclaw's, with Rend's being the second closest. Evidently, he was rather highly favored.

Inside, it was dark and rather cramped compared to the warlord's luxurious tent. Remnants of old meals, cast-off clothing, weapons, and other debris were scattered everywhere, and Kan held back a grudging awe at the speed at which the ferret located two uniforms-earth-brown tunics with a claw embroidered in orange thread, which they hurriedly donned- and their weapons. Kan was allowed to keep his curved sword, though Sakhyo's dagger and short sword were exchanged for the standard pike, a relatively short kind with an almost scythe-like blade.

"Polish that frogsticker up good, stoat," the Captain snapped. "Yer musta rolled it in dung, it's that filthy."

Kan bit his tongue to keep back his angry reply, merely saluting and replying "Right away, Cap'n!" in a forced monotone.

"Now, yer Halek an' the female's Neza, right?" Rend questioned, though he'd been told their names that very afternoon and remembered them perfectly. Kan, still annoyed by his bad luck, had not been paying attention, and nearly fell into the trap. He was about to correct the ferret when Sakhyo immediately kicked him, so that the only sound he produced was a pained yelp.

"Yowch! Er, yep, that's correct, sir!"

The Captain grunted. "Right, then. Gerrout of me tent, yer can sleep around one of the fires wid my other soldiers. Don't worry about losin' yer way, somebeast'll see yer comin' outta 'ere 'n direct yer proper."

Saluting once more, the pair exchanged rueful glances and headed back outside. Sakhyo seemed impassive, though Kan's head was spinning with the rapid pace of events.

True to Rend's word, nearly the instant they exited the tent, two soldiers came trotting over. "Hoi, so yer the new recruits?" a ferret questioned. "Huh, everybeast thought yer was dead- nobeast goes in th' boss's tent fer tea 'n cakes. Ah well," he remarked, throwing a comradely paw about Kan's shoulders and winking at Sakhyo. "I'm Drift, looks like we're in this t'gether, eh...?" He trailed off.

"I'm Halek," Kan replied, " An' this 'ere is Neza."

_Okay, you remembered the names, _an inner voice remarked, _but can you act like a hordebeast? _

"Pleased ter meetcher, 'Alek," Drift remarked, extending a grimy paw for the young stoat to shake. Indicating the other soldier, a sullen-looking, stocky male weasel, he continued, "This's my pal Jiha. Jiha, this is 'Alek an' Neza." The weasel grunted in reply.

As the little group headed toward a nearby fire, Drift leaned over to Kan's ear, hissing in a highly audible stage whisper. "Say, 'Alek, wot appened t' yer matey Neza? She looks like a weasel wot got left out in th' storm all night."

Jiha chuckled, as Drift grinned expectantly .

Peering over her friend's shoulder to get a better look at the ferret, Sakhyo snapped, "I'm a mink, snipenose, so wipe that leer off yer face."

Drift did not lose his smile, which was exposing all of his remaining teeth, as he nudged Kan in the side. " "Ey, feisty liddle wench, ain't she? Never seen a kink afore. Are they all as cute an' fluffy as yerself, Neza me darlin'?"

Kan was unceremoniously shoved aside as Sakhyo chased the ferret all the way to the campfire, where she proceeded to pin him down and give him the thrashing of his life.

The other soldiers cheered and whistled at the display, one of them handing her a flask of grog when she finally sat down by them, allowing a severely beaten Drift to crawl over and flop down by Kan, sullenly nursing his numerous bruises, scratches, and bites. "Huh, that 'un could teach ol' Razorclaws a thing or two!" he muttered. Kan could not help laughing, both at the ferret's displeasure and the triumphant smirk on Sakhyo's face.

The singing, eating, and drinking gave way to snores later in the night, and only Sakhyo was still awake as Kan was drifting off to sleep. "Well, mate, looks like we're 'ordebeasts, now, eh? How d'ya like it? That Razorclaw is somethin' else... those stories weren't kiddin'!" she added, shuddering.

The young stoat did not answer, feigning sleep. _How do I like being a hordebeast? _he wondered. _Maybe it's better the second time around..._

He thought no more, his body exhausted by the eventful day, and his eyes closed as quiet darkness surrounded him and carried him away. His sleep was deep and dreamless, though it ended a few hours later when a footpaw nudged him hard in the side.

"Lemme 'lone, Sakhyo," he grumbled, barely half-awake and under the impression that he was back in the Shadowtide barracks, about to start another morning of training.

Drift's voice came from above. "Sack-what-oh? Who's that, 'Alek?"

His mind cleared by panic, Kan scrambled up and shook himself. "Huh?" he said quickly. "Er, back where I lived, my sister Sakhyo always used to wake me up real early, so y'know, I wasn't thinkin' an' all.." He trailed off, aware of how feeble his story was.

Drift laughed, however. "Yah, I knows what yer talkin' about. Huh, one time Jiha woke me up after I'd been drinkin' a bit, and I thought 'e was one o' th' ladies fer a moment...Huh, _that _was awkward, I can tell yer! Thought 'e'd never fergive me fer that one... Anyway," he continued, still chuckling, "We're marching now, so wake up an' get trampin'! That stripedog mountain won't conquer itself- Razorclaw's gotta do it, an' yer know our lot, mate, follow th' boss an' don't ask questions. C'mon, Cap'n's waiting, everybeast but us is on their way!"

Pulling on his horde tunic and grabbing his sword, Kan raced off after the ferret as they caught up with the swiftly advancing army. Salamandastron reared above the horizon; they would reach it very soon at this pace.

After an hour's worth of the brutal marching, the young stoat felt as though his footpaws were shredded to the bone, and breathing was an agony. He knew, however, just like every other soldier, that to stop and rest was to forfeit your life.

Fervently, he hoped the hares would be ready when they arrived. The mountain loomed ever closer, as the day wore on and the march continued.

* * *

General Ixora had been unable to sleep; as dawn broke the tall hare was pacing outside the mountain with Sergeant Merrond, trying to relax herself with some good old-fashioned patrolling. 

"D' you hear that, old lad?" she inquired. "Sounds like thunder t'me, eh wot?"

"Nonsense, Ixora," he replied cheerfully, "look up, there ain't a bally cloud in the sky! Clear an' azure blue as ever 'twas, wot!"

As the sound continued, both hares looked at each other in horror as they realized what it was. Far away, a cloud of dust was rising, stirred up by scores and scores of tramping footpaws. All heading straight for them.

* * *

**A/N: Just a heads-up- Chapter 13 is going to be really short, while Chapter 14, in which the climactic battle takes place, is going to be LOOOONG. Just warning you. Then everything ends with chapter 15! **

**But fear not, my loyal fans (you'll all get shout-outs later), for there is a sequel in the makings! **


	13. Surrender

It was afternoon, a day after the horde had set off on its final march. Now the entire army was massed around the mountain, leaving no escape routes, as there were enough soldiers to almost completely surround it.

Ferayor Razorclaw stood at the front, facing the huge main doors. He paced back and forth, snarling, full of a restless fury. The monolith seemed deserted; nobeast peered out of windows, and no arrows or slingstones had been fired. The entire army was completely silent as well, with no yells or rattling of weapons.

Anybeast could tell that this was a standoff, of sorts- would the horde make the first move, or would the hares have to do it for them?

* * *

Earlier in the day, something had been puzzling Kan, and he had finally gotten the chance to ask about it. Weaving through the moving army, he fell in beside Sakhyo. "Hey, mate," she murmured softly out of the corner of her mouth, keeping her eyes on the path ahead. 

"Listen, Sakhyo," he began. "Ever since I joined this thing, everybeast 'as been teachin' me all about spyin', assassinatin', an' the like. But all we did was join th' horde an' get ter know a couple of soldiers. Didn't report what the big coyote told us, didn't assassinate anybeast. Wot's goin' on?"

"That's an easy one, mate," she muttered. "Look around ya. This 'orde got movin' so fast, by th' time we sent a report back t' the mountain they'd be there already. There ain't any time fer spyin' and secret killin's, so all we c'n do is get in the battle, pretend to kill hares 'n fight fer the other side when nobeast is lookin.' Clear?"

He nodded, and they marched the rest of the way in silence. Drift and Jiha found them and walked alongside, and even the talkative ferret was quiet for once, though his eyes were gleaming with excitement.

* * *

Now they stood there, quiet as the grave. A place that many, on both sides, would doubtless find themselves in before the season was out. 

Without warning, a roar came from the head of the army, shattering the eerie quiet. A wordless, primitive sound, full of rage and bloodlust. Razorclaw howled again, and again. The horde gave a collective shudder.

On the fifth roar, the doors of Salamandastron opened, and the hares marched out. Rank upon rank of stone-faced warriors, perhaps forty or even fifty score, though the enemy still outnumbered them.

The hares halted the second they arrived, forming a living barrier between horde and mountain.

The silence continued.

* * *

The horde shifted their weapons, and the coyote at their head bared his fangs. When he howled a final time, the fight would begin. It was a perfect signal, as sometimes the fearsome sound itself was enough to stop the enemy for a few moments. 

The ranks of the mountain's defenders abruptly split in two, forming a clear path as somebeast came forward.

Ferayor's madness intensified as he saw who dared to face him. In an instant, signals and battle plans were forgotten. He laughed and laughed, the screeching, grating sound slicing through the air like a knife. Finally, he had won.

"So, brother," he growled. "Why come you here? Indeed, why came you to this mountain? Do these longears follow you?"

Calm golden eyes met maddened orange ones, and did not look away. "No, brother," he replied quietly. "They do not, and I know that some wish that I were not here at all."

Indeed, although some of the hares looked horrified, others were muttering among themselves.

"Always knew there was somethin' bad about him... T' be related t' that monster!"

"Bet he's gonna turn on us now, eh, old chap?"

"Never trust a vermin, that's wot I always say! Go on, old lad, be with yore kin!"

Razorclaw laughed again. "See, brother, you have grown even weaker. Even the beasts you control will despise you, for you lack the strength to rule them properly. But worry not, I will do you a favor. All these insolent longears will be dead before the season is out, and we will rule this mountain together."

"Do not kill the hares," he replied. "It is me that you want, they have done you no harm."

The big coyote wanted nothing more than to begin the slaughter; it was evident in his face and the frantic twitching of his muscles. He managed to control himself, though, and announced in a voice that all could hear, "Very well, if you would come with me, my soldiers will prepare a tent, and we will talk. Perhaps an agreement can be reached."

His brother nodded, and stepped forward. The horde ranks closed around him.

Near the back of the mighty army, Sakhyo frantically attempted to restrain a struggling, biting Kan. "He can't do this!" he hissed. "Not to Ri-" The last word was muffled as the mink hurriedly slapped a paw across his mouth and held it there, effectively silencing him.

"Retreat!" the captains barked in unison. Like a single organism, the army drew away from the mountain and flowed off across the shore, to halt in a flat area well out of arrow range.

* * *

The battle would commence tomorrow.

As Ferayor Razorclaw gazed across the fire at his brother, an idea came to him. "So..." he whispered slyly. "You would surrender, on the condition that I will leave this place?"

The second coyote nodded.

"As you wish, brother," Razorclaw rasped. "I will leave... after there is nothing worth staying for. I care not for a mountain now that I have you here before me, cringing, helpless. The fields will be put to the torch, the stronghold plundered and ripped apart, rock by rock. The longears will die, all of them, or they will gladly accept slavery after they witness what I am capable of. And at dawn tomorrow, brother, you will aid me in that."

"I will not help you murder honest beasts," he muttered. "Never."

Razorclaw gave a low, feral chuckle as he reached forward, cupping his brother's chin in his claws and forcing their gazes to lock. "And misunderstanding it to the last... You never were the most clever of creatures. Imagine it, brother, would the longears want to fight a creature like me? One who needs no army to kill, who can rip even a coyote limb from limb with just claws and fangs? Once they see you, shredded to mere pieces, the crows and flies swarming over what remains?"

Laughing softly, he turned away and entered his tent. He could barely wait until dawn.

* * *

The flames reflected in Rinqan's golden eyes as he stared into the fire. Above his bowed head, the sky slowly darkened, as afternoon gave way to dusk, and dusk to evening. 

A ring of Captains and other elite hordebeasts surrounded him, weapons at the ready. There was no entry, and certainly no escape.

Night fell. He did not move.


	14. War, Part I

As dawn arrived, the two armies faced each other once more. Hordebeasts and Long Patrol engaged in silent staring contests, each trying to intimidate the other with the force of their gaze. A few nervous hares looked away; a few soldiers did likewise. No sound was made.

Then the warlord returned, shoving his brother in front of him, bound and gagged. His golden eyes showed no fear, only regret and a solemn acceptance. The hares were evidently beginning to regret their previous comments, the ones who had condemned him ashamedly shuffling their footpaws and staring at the ground.

Though no signal was given, as one the armies suddenly shifted into a ring, surrounding the two coyotes. Razorclaw sliced away the ropes from Rinqan's arms and legs, and the gag from his mouth, so that they faced each other with some sense of equality.

Kan had shouldered his way to the front of the assembly, and as he saw this he dared to hope that the fight could be a fair one. As is customary in duels, the two combatants reached out to shake paws. As Ferayor's paw gripped that of his brother's, he dug his claws in viciously and threw him to the ground single-pawed.

The horde cheered and whistled, while the hares and few Shadowtide creatures moaned. Then the fight truly began.

Razorclaw leapt at the fallen Rinqan with a roar, but the smaller coyote scrabbled to the side, sending his brother crashing onto the shore. As he howled in fury, clawing at eyes and nose and spitting out grit, Rinqan pounced on his unprotected back. He managed to inflict a few minor slashes before Ferayor reared up and threw him off. Both coyotes vanished in a whirlwind of screeches, howls, flying fur, and slashing teeth and claws.

* * *

Kan was trembling all over; mighty shakes wracking him from head to footpaws. What he could see of the world through his remaining eye seemed to have gone slightly crimson. His body felt superheated, adrenaline powering his system till he felt almost invincible. The young stoat's mind barely registered what he was doing before he leapt into the ring. 

Sakhyo and a few other creatures cried out in horror. He did not hear them, or indeed anything besides a fearful, keening howl; and was unaware that the sound belonged to him. He leapt and missed, though the sound of his crash onto the shore was enough to distract Razorclaw from his intended victim. The huge coyote writhed free of Rinqan's attacks in time to see the stoat rise, shake himself, and leap again.

Cunningly, Ferayor waited until Kan was nearly on top of him before slashing out, ripping into the young stoat's shoulders and chest. As he struggled to disengage, the movements only inflicted deeper wounds from the coyote's embedded claws.

With a snort of derision, Razorclaw released his temporary foe and turned back to the fight at hand... to find the rest of the arena deserted.

A screeching roar ripped from his throat as he whirled around once more, intent on finding the stoat who had destroyed his victory. But Kan had crawled away, to be seized and hidden among the mass of hordebeasts by a horrified Sakhyo. Drift was there as well, awestruck by the fact that his friend had dared to challenge Ferayor Razorclaw.

The warlord roared again, but this time the bestial sound held a command. "_Attack! _"

Amidst wild battle cries, the clash of weaponry, and the eerie howls of those who would be the first of many casualties, the war began.

Sakhyo barely had time to pull her friend upright before they were lost to each other. Kan slashed at any hare within range; he or she would then fall to the ground, pretending death, only to pop back up in another place and continue fighting. This strategy worked for the most part, though a few were trampled underfoot in the ongoing chaos.  
The world had turned into nothing more than a desperate struggle for survival, filled with blood and deafening noise.

* * *

At one point, the young stoat glimpsed Sergeant Merrond, dealing out a swift and brutal end to any hordebeasts that came within the reach of his saber. The blade, once fanatically polished, was now stained a dark red and dripping with gore. One of the unfortunate soldiers was a tall ferret, his pelt a mix of brown and gray, who had been trying to run rather than attack. With a jolt of horror, Kan recognized Drift. 

Somehow, he fought his way through the melee and reached the ferret's side. His friend had fallen to his knees, begging the hare for mercy.

The sergeant's face was terrible to behold, twisted almost beyond recognition with cold anger. "Stand aside," he snarled, in a voice far removed from its normal tones. "Or have you forgotten which side you're fighting for?"

Drift looked from hare to stoat in confusion, his panicked mind somehow managing to process the question. " 'Alek, mate, if yer on 'is side, please, let 'im spare me, I ain't done nothin'!" he pleaded.

He desperately stretched out a paw, eyes filled with terror. Kan was reaching down to grasp it, to save him, when he heard the shrieking whistle of the saber slicing through air, and then a horrible ripping sound as it sliced through flesh.

The supplicating paw went limp and collapsed to the ground, along with the rest of the ferret's body. The young stoat wanted nothing more at that moment than to look away, but he could not. His eyes were locked on the body, and the head that now lay a few feet to the side, an expression of mingled fright and confusion still frozen on its face.

Forgetting everything, Kan turned and ran.

* * *

The coyote staggered through the mayhem, taking no notice of the creatures killing and being killed all around him. Finally he made his way out of the battle, and fell onto a patch of open shore, blood streaming from his wounds. 

A shadow fell across the ground, inches from his muzzle. With a great effort, he raised his head and saw a creature standing over him. For a moment he thought it to be his brother, then realized that it was a fox, though a large one. A fox that he recognized.

He managed to stand, though the movement caused him agony. "Arif," he rasped, voice hoarse and labored. "Quickly...we mus' find th..th' others..."

The fox did not react. His voice was cool and emotionless, without the customary accent, as he slowly padded forward. "Calm yourself, Rinqan. There is time enough, never fear..."

* * *

Kan's body was close to its breaking point. His run had gradually slowed to a trot, and then to a frantic walk. Now he was nearly crawling, bent almost double, lungs afire and his gait jerky and weak. He was at the fringes of the battle when he blearily made out a shadowy figure, standing alone in the open. He called out, a desperate, tormented cry that lacked any real words. Whether it was friend or foe did not matter now; a quick death would be just as welcome as help. 

The figure turned and headed toward him, and even through his clouded half-vision, Kan recognized Arif. Any ally, though, he decided, was better than none.

"A...Arif!" he gasped. "Wh..where's Rinqan? I saw Razorclaw...but.."

The fox smirked, and as he gestured behind him with his sword, Kan saw that it was stained a glistening crimson. "Ah, you were looking for our fearless leader, without whose cunning and fighting skill we could never even hope to win this battle? He's right over... there."

Kan looked...and saw a crumpled form, lying huddled and still on the ground in the middle of a thick, dark pool.

Arif was still smiling as he slowly edged closer to the young stoat, sword held deceptively low. With a piercing roar, Kan leapt for the traitorous fox. It was what his enemy had been waiting for; like lightning the blade swept to meet his attack, missing any vital areas but slicing a long gash into his side.

As Kan collapsed onto the ground, he realized far too late that he had lost his own sword. After Drift's death, it had fallen from his nerveless paw, and he had completely forgotten it in his panic.

Arif stalked slowly forward, his smirk replaced by a wide predator's grin. "Well, little stoat," he hissed through savagely bared teeth. "Your coyote isn't here to save you this time, and do you know why?"

Lost for words, all Kan could do was snarl in fury.

"Lord Razorclaw would never have known if it were not for me. I, his most loyal and trusted spy, the best of his warriors. That foolish marten figured it out as well, and she has been dealt with."

Kan's powers of speech returned with the shock of this new revelation. "Raeyari!" he spat. "Why? She helped you after your family was murdered... led you to where you could get help and rest..."

The big fox laughed. "It amazes me that no matter what you do, you always manage to show boundless stupidity. Have you not realized anything? There _were_ no Corsairs; my family is presumably alive and well, though I can't say I care. The story of your little massacred army is true enough, but that was carried out by _me._ Lord Razorclaw sent an entire battalion to escort me, so much did he value my services, and along the way we ran into some minor... problems, shall we say. I kept the marten alive so she could show me the way back, but it was a long while before she was..._persuaded_... to obey.

Ah now, see what you have done?" he continued, still remorselessly coming closer, sword at the ready. "I have wasted valuable time relating this, and there will be no chance for you to remember any of it..." He bent down, staring maliciously into Kan's eyes. "Goodbye, worthless little stoat."

He raised the sword, slowly and triumphantly. Blood dripped off of it in small rivulets, falling onto Kan's fur to mingle with that of his previous wounds. For a second or two, he wanted desperately to leap up, to save himself for a few more moments and avenge his murdered friends. But strength was rapidly flowing out of him, leaving his body to dissolve into the ocean and the blood-stained sands.

The setting sun was hot against his face, and the sounds of the raging battle were no longer audible. He felt the individual agony of every gash and cut on his body, and closed his eyes.

A furious roar rent the air, followed a few seconds after by a horrified choking noise. Kan blinked and somehow, sat up. The sword lay abandoned before him, leaning against one of his footpaws. Arif was screaming, pleading, the sounds growing ever more ghastly as whatever it was tore into his throat, before they halted altogether.

He turned, and saw Razorclaw shaking the limp fox, fearsome teeth fastened in his neck. The rest of his body was almost cut to pieces by the coyote's claws, his chest ripped open to reveal a nightmarish canvas of blood and fractured bone. With a final growl, Ferayor released the broken carcass and bounded off to rejoin the fray, taking no notice of the wounded stoat lying close by.

Adrenaline rushed through Kan, his new energy fueled both by horror at the carnage all around and at the sight of the figure now racing toward him, waving its paws frantically in the air and yelling his name in a voice like thunder.

* * *

Sakhyo cannoned into her friend, knocking him backwards across the shore. "Kan! Kan! Yer alive? I lost sight of ya a long time ago, an'..." Her words trailed away, as a stricken cry tore from her throat. Before he could do anything, she raced over to Rinqan's body, tears coursing down her face. 

Slowly, painfully, he got to his footpaws and staggered over to her, rasping out a single word. "Arif."

He collapsed once more, the world darkening and fading away. Sakhyo's words seemed to come from a great distance. "Yer...yer tellin' me he's a traitor?"

* * *

With awakening, the pain returned, and he groaned as something wet and cold trickled down his face. Sakhyo withdrew the canteen of water she had been pouring gently over his head when she saw him move. Turning away, the mink stared off towards the battleground, her expression unreadable. 

Kan struggled to rise, but the effort was far too much for him. "Sakhyo..." he coughed hoarsely. She whirled around, concerned, and bent to raise him up, supporting his back with a sturdy paw till he could, shakily, support himself.

The young stoat was shocked almost beyond belief when his friend handed him his sword. It was dirty and slightly scratched, but at least it was in one piece. "Sarge Merrond gave it ter me," she remarked. "Didn't say why yer lost it, though, mate."

A pang of grief, mixed with anger, shot briefly through him as he recalled Drift's final moments. He did not reply.

Without warning, Sakhyo gripped him by the shoulders and stared into his face, speaking urgently and low. "Lissen, Kan. I've got an idea. If we c'n do fer the big coyote, Razorfang or wotever 'e's called, the 'orde will be seriously weakened. You 'n me, we gotta lead 'im away from the mountain. Do ya understand?"

Kan nodded, though inside he felt weaker than ever. Both of them were severely injured and beaten, exhausted by the war. Their wounds from the fight with Kasivar Steelwave were only just starting to heal, and scores of new ones had opened since. His eye was still afire with pain; with his luck it would have become infected by now.

As the mink released him, she abruptly started and turned around, hefting her pike in bloodstained paws. "Somebeast's come t' join the party, mate," she called harshly. "Let's give 'em a proper welcome!"

In the next few seconds, though, she had dropped her weapon and was bounding forward to embrace the approaching figure. "Toka!" she screeched. "Kan, mate, look, it's Tokala!"

The vixen seemed equally worn out, bruised in a dozen places and bleeding from a long rip on her shoulder, but she was smiling. "Hey there, stoat. Ain't seen yer in a whi- By the eternal fires, wot 'appened to yer eye?"

"Long story," Sakhyo interjected before he could answer. "Now, we gotta hurry! Toka, mate, are ya up fer another battle? We're goin' after the warlord!"

Tokala blinked. "Just us three? Where'd Rin and Raeyari get to? Oh, an' old Arif, too, I suppose."

"There's no time fer that," the mink snapped, her voice turning harsh. "Just move!"

As the trio raced off across the shore, back into the thick of the fighting, tears were trickling down the vixen's face as she realized what Sakhyo's refusal to answer meant. It was all up to them now.

* * *

Everywhere, hordebeasts and Long Patrol fought and died. The three friends swiftly added to the carnage, which was by now so great that nobeast even noticed which side they were fighting for in the struggle to fend off death.

They tried hard to keep their minds blank as they thrust, parried, and dealt fatal strikes. Giving in to grief would mean losing their sanity.

They were killing machines, carrying out their gruesome task without compassion or feeling, and not paying attention to the wounds they recieved in the process.

That was, of course, until they spotted Ferayor Razorclaw. The coyote was locked in combat with two hares, snarling as he fought. His teeth and claws were scarlet with blood, matching perfectly the color of his maddened eyes.

As he brought one of the hares down, rending and tearing, Sakhyo, Kan, and Tokala arrived on the scene. The mink sliced at his exposed shoulder with her pike, inflicting a nasty gash, though the coyote was too gripped by bloodlust to notice.

The three friends slashed at any part of Razorclaw they could reach, shouting insults or challenges in ragged voices, while trying to avoid hurting the still-alive hare underneath. Finally the pain and noise penetrated the coyote's brain, and he leapt off his prey to pursue them with a roar.

* * *

They ran through the chaos, leading him farther and farther away from the mountain. None of them dared to look back and make sure he was still following, too scared of the demon they would see. 


	15. War, Part II

The chase ended on top of a large sand dune, nearly a mile and a half away from the battle. Hunter and hunted alike had run themselves to exhaustion; their lungs filled with pain as they tried to draw breath, chests agonizingly tight. Even standing was a challenge on legs that were almost too weak to support their weight, and so it was by the whim of some strange miracle that the fight began.

Razorclaw was the first to attack, lunging for Kan with claws extended and fangs bared. The young stoat sliced out with his sword, trying desperately to remember what Rinqan had taught him. He caught the oncoming coyote across the muzzle, leaving a deep slash that ran from cheek to throat.

Blood spattered Kan's face as the warlord shook his head, baying his anger.

Ferayor leapt again, this time successfully, knocking the stoat onto his back and tearing into his unprotected chest. Kan howled in pain, struggling to raise his arm and fight back, when Tokala came to the rescue.

Expertly wielding a long, thin scimitar, she gave Razorclaw a deep cut across the back of his neck, which began to bleed, thick and fast, almost immediately. It was an ideal distraction; the warlord released Kan and attacked the vixen instead. She got in one more strike before the scimitar was swept from her paw by his charge. Tokala was no longer visible under the coyote as they rolled around the battleground, though both creatures screeched and roared like demons.

This time it was Sakhyo and Kan who intervened, desperately hacking away with pike and sword. It was a considerable time before Razorclaw reacted, and neither of the two friends were able to assess Tokala's injuries before the coyote was upon them.

By now, the sun had begun to set, and in the fading light the battle dragged on. At one point, while Sakhyo engaged the coyote, Kan helped Tokala upright and returned her weapon. Now all three fought the warlord to the death, feeling as though their limbs had turned to lead, and their strength evaporated like water in the sun. Razorclaw, however, was like a creature from Hellgates, clawing, ripping, and laughing madly all the while. There seemed to be no end to his attacks.

As he fought off another of the coyote's rushes, Kan was racking his brain for ideas, and found none. His mind was a whirlwind of panic, agony, and fear.

Then it came to him, as he recalled Sakhyo's fight with the Corsair.

His voice was hoarse, coming in rasping, labored gasps. "Hoi, y...y' worthless brindled cur! Ca..call yersel' a warlord? Yer nothin' but...but a brainless, corpse-eatin' dog!"

The response was predictable, and as his foe attacked, he feigned tripping and crashed to the ground a second before Razorclaw caught him, sending the huge coyote nose-first into the sand.

Within another heartbeat, his enemy had risen and renewed the assault, and just as the crushing weight pinned him down and the savage claws dug into his sides, Kan flung a large pawful of sand straight into Ferayor's mad crimsoned eyes.

The resulting howl was more of a pained shriek than anything else, and as the warlord fell back, swiping at the air, with another surge of strength Kan was on the offensive. His curved sword seemed to be in five places at once, joined by Tokala's scimitar and Sakhyo's pike until the coyote finally started to retreat, coated in blood and sweat and nearly sliced to pieces. The Shadowtide trio was little better, but they fought on.

As Razorclaw lunged for Sakhyo, for all the world like some creature from the very depths of hell, a mess of bloody foam dripping from his jaws, the mink instantly thrust forward with her pike. She cut deep into the coyote's chest, piercing the heart. He stumbled backward across the dunetop, until his faltering steps carried him onto empty air.

Razorclaw tumbled down the side of the hill, streaking the sand dark red as he fell. He reached the bottom with a sickening thud, having crashed with considerable momentum into a large rock rearing up out of the sand below.

The three friends watched in awed silence as the mangled coyote stumbled up to all fours, coughing blood, and looked up at them with eyes burning like live coals, full of more rage and hatred than anything they had ever seen.

Then he collapsed onto the sand, and did not move.

Kan turned away from the ghastly sight as he felt the gentle touch of a paw on his shoulder. Tokala was there, smiling. "Good job, stoat," she said hoarsely, blood trickling out of the corner of her mouth. "An'...an' you too, Sah'yo, knew ye could do it..."

The mink tugged at her shoulder. "Hurry, mate, we gotta get back and tell the hares! When the warlord's dead, th' battle's good as over!"

The vixen fell to her knees, shaking her head with a wry grin. "S...sorry, friend, but I ain't comin'. Look at me, wot d'ye think?"

Tears filling her eyes, Sakhyo obeyed, reaching out a paw as though to touch the dreadful wounds. Tokala grasped the paw, holding it tightly at first, but her grip was steadily slackening as her eyes began to cloud over. "Tha' rotten coyote cut me inta ribbons," she coughed. "Ah well, 'e'll get punishment enough where 'e's goin'..."

Kan was slightly ashamed to feel the tears building up in his own eyes, hot and wet, as he came forward and laid a paw on the vixen's shoulder. Her smile was faint and crooked as she rasped out a few more words. "Huh, l...looka you, big tough stoat, don' wanna show 'e's cryin'..."

Then her dimming eyes became unfocused, as she looked over his shoulder, murmuring, "Rae, Rin, wot're ye doin 'ere? Came to congratulate us on...the...the big fight, eh?"

She fell back onto the shore, eyes closing, as blood continued to flow unchecked from her lacerated body. Sakhyo threw back her head and howled her grief at the sky; Kan shuddered at the sound of it, tortured and unnatural.

He became aware once more of the battle, and as he listened to the faint, distant noises, the clashes and screeches of metal, the roars and the screams, he suddenly felt a terrible weariness. Too weak to move farther from the battleground, the young stoat fell down where he stood, lying on the cool, blood-stained sand, and closed his eyes.

The heavens, growing steadily darker with the advent of night, slowly became obscured by clouds, so that the moon and stars could not shine upon this sad aftermath of war.


	16. Lord of the Mountain

Kan woke to the earsplitting squawks of seagulls, mixed with Sakhyo's furious yelling.

"Gerroutofit, ya filthy birds!" she howled. "Go an' peck at yon coyote, or th' fox, an' leave our Toka be!"

Curious, he scrambled upright, feeling with relief that at least some strength had returned to his limbs. Sakhyo was racing about the dunetop, swinging her pike at the scavenging birds wheeling above the corpses. When he reached her side, she remarked, "We'd best bury poor Tokala, mate; those carrion birds won't let 'er alone."

* * *

It was almost noon by the time the task was finished. The two friends had carried the vixen's body away from the battleground, to a part of the tideline untouched by blood and death. A circle of smooth colored pebbles ringed the grave, dug deeply into the wet sand of the shore. When all was finished, they stood there for a moment in complete silence, remembering the brave vixen who had given everything for them. 

They returned to the dune one last time, to retrieve their weapons and think on the best course of action. In the end, Sakhyo decided that it would be best to return to the mountain, war or no war, so that the hares could help them. Both creatures sorely needed food, drink, and treatment for their injuries, as the two small bags of rations and canteens they had between them were not nearly enough, and medical supplies were non-existent.

As they headed across the huge sandhill, Kan paused to look at Arif's body. The seagulls and gannets had been busy; in a few places there was nothing left but ivory bone, glinting in the sunlight. Flies buzzed or crawled everywhere, covering the corpse in thick patches of moving black bodies and iridescent wings. The face, although now missing one of the eyes, was still frozen in its last bewildered snarl, filled with fright and anger.

Sakhyo turned pale beneath her fur as she got a good look at the carcass for the first time; seeing the twisted head above the mangled throat and the butchered torso, flesh and hide slashed away to expose the bloody viscera. It was a decidedly gruesome sight.

"Er, K.K...kan," she stuttered. "Yer didn't do that, d...did yer, mate?"

The young stoat was feeling a bit nauseous as well as he replied, "No, it was Razorclaw what killed 'im. S'pose it was 'cause Arif ruined 'is chance to kill 'is brother..."

Sakhyo moaned. "Oh, Rin... d'ye know where 'e's at, mate?"

Kan slowly shook his head, feeling terrible for causing his friend so much pain. "No... when we returned to the battle an' led Razorclaw away it was off in the other direction. Those birds will 'ave got 'im by now, I'm sorry, Sakhyo."

The mink stared at the ground, tears welling in her dark eyes, before she raised her head to gaze off towards the distant mountain, snarling in a savage tone he had never heard before. "Then let's get back ter the battle, an' make that horde sorry they ever tangled wid the Shadowtide!"

* * *

The hordebeasts, however, had already received their share of punishment. Barely any of them had even noticed their leader's disappearance, and were too busy fighting for their lives to care. The battle had ended the day after it began, in one of the shortest but most brutal wars in Salamandastron's history. Now what remained of the horde had been driven away by the Long Patrol, and a third of the hares had been dispatched to make sure the army headed south without any problems. 

Dead and dying soldiers lay everywhere, those still alive cursing Ferayor Razorclaw and his schemes with their last few breaths. The hares were dealing with the bodies, rolling the hordebeast corpses into the ocean or scornfully leaving them for the seagulls to deal with. Their fallen comrades were taken inside the mountain to be given proper burials in one of the vaults that lay deep underground.

And the most important event of all had taken place the previous night, while Kan, Sakhyo, and Tokala fought the warlord. The horde had nearly overwhelmed the mountain, and hope was rapidly fading when salvation arrived from the east, in the form of one mighty creature...

* * *

The first thing the two friends noticed was that the sounds of the battle had stopped altogether, the afternoon air broken only by the cries of seagulls and the ever-present rush of the ocean. Sakhyo and Kan exchanged quizzical glances as they arrived at the top of a hill, and nearly fainted in surprise as they saw the silent battlefield before them. The mink whooped in delight, grabbing Kan in a bone-crushing hug until the stoat gasped for air. "We did it!" she roared. "Hah, no stupid horde can break this mountain! C'mon, let's go!"

* * *

As they reached the mountain's front gates, walking in a wide circle to avoid the carnage, their hopes of a hero's welcome were quickly extinguished. The doors opened, and twelve hares marched out to surround them in a cage of lances and cold, hard eyes. "Wot's goin' on 'ere?" Sakhyo snapped. "It's us, the Shadowtide, wot's left of part of yer own army! Ixora, tell 'em!" 

The tall general lowered her gaze in shame, though not her lancepoint. "Sorry, mink, it's th' Lord's orders."

Kan and Sakhyo looked at each other, barely having time to comprehend the statement before the Lord himself arrived, hares scattering in every direction to leave a clear path and bowing as they did.

Neither of them had ever seen a badger before, though from the stories Kan had always assumed them to be gigantic, certainly much larger than this one. He was clearly powerful despite his lean form, muscles rippling beneath his short pelt as he strode towards them. His voice was a deep, icy growl, faintly crimson eyes narrowing threateningly as he spoke.

"Why do vermin come to _my _mountain?" he snapped, baring sharp white teeth.

Kan would rather have faced six coyotes at once than plead his case to this dangerous stripedog, but he managed to speak nonetheless, in a faltering, hesitating voice that came out much more shrill than he would have liked. "Er, er, yer honor, we ain't vermin, we were part of yer army, called th...the Shadowtide.. Me an' Sakhyo, we killed the warlord..." He trailed off, aware of how pitiful and false he sounded.

_Like any 'vermin' trying to lie its way out of trouble, _he thought furiously. _I'd have better chances of convincing a stone!_

The badger, however, nodded. "Ah, yes, my hares have told me of this thing."

For one fleeting moment, Kan thought everything would be fine. Then the ruler continued.

"And a more foolish and treacherous idea I have never heard. Ravenfrost was an addled old fool, too weak to deal with the war that stole his senses away. I am Rakh Bloodsight, stoat, and I will _not _allow whining, crippled scum like you inside my mountain. "

The young stoat cringed as he saw Sakhyo growl, drawing herself up challengingly with all her fur fluffed out. Surely she knew that antagonizing this creature was suicide. "Well then, Rack Bloodysight, war must 'ave made yer senseless as well! Don't yer have the brains ter help injured, starvin' creatures? I wouldn't _wanna_ stay 'ere if yer around!"

The badger snarled back, his eyes rapidly turning crimson with rage. "Silence, creature. Who are you to speak to me like this? You play with your life, wench, insulting me so, and being so foolish as to think I would be hospitable to savages like you. Now leave or die!"

His roar echoed and re-echoed, burning the ultimatum into Kan's brain.

Suddenly the young stoat could take it no longer. Giving Rakh Bloodsight a final, hate-filled stare, he whirled around and ran, shoving hares aside as he headed north along the sand.

Sakhyo spat on the ground, inches away from the badger's footpaws, and bounded off after her friend. Adventure and a new life awaited.

_That is, if Kan doesn't run himself to death first! _she thought, trying to keep up as he dashed away.

* * *

Rakh Bloodsight, Lord of Salamandastron, turned and headed back inside his mountain. Vermin were a curse upon the land, a plague that he had every intention to wipe out. Let those two run, with their wounds and their foolish excuses of secret armies. He would start with them.

* * *

Far across the ocean, on a small, rocky island, a searat brooded in the dim, smoky light of the tavern. He was huddled over the remains of his fifth drink, staring into the bottom of the tankard as though the answers to his problems were written there. His anger was dulled as the grog began to take effect on his system, though he was still able to reflect once more on the voyage that had ruined his life. 

It was a stupid idea from the start, but his Captain had not been one for making silly decisions. The entire crew had assumed that she would lead them to more slaughter and treasure. Why not attack the badger mountain? They were Corsairs, the best killers on land or sea!

He had been one of the party to go ahead in the jollyboat, excited to get first chance at the action. That was when things started to go wrong. Captain Steelwave gave the order to surround some vagabond that Tashak and Sharktail had caught, and was about to finish it off when the longears charged. They fought, but his mates were killed or driven away, and their own Captain had deserted them. He had run blindly till he was driven to exhaustion, and had wandered the coastline in a daze for the next week or so.

One morning, he found an old rowboat that had been flung up against the rocks, with only a few holes in it. Repairing the vessel, he'd sailed off with no particular course in mind, hoping to join another crew if he could find one. He had a lot of experience, having been first mate under the feared Kasivar Steelwave. Then he'd found the island, and become a fixture in the tavern, seething and drinking his time away.

Now he was sick of doing nothing. The bartender brought him his next drink as usual, but he ignored it and leapt up from his seat, staring around the room at the others. They were like himself, too weary to enjoy themselves and too wrapped up in their own misfortune to care. "Hoi, mates," he yelled. Only a few looked in his directions, so he drew his cutlass and with his other paw, grabbed the drink and flung it at the stone wall. It broke spectacularly, shattering in an explosion of grog and fragments of dirty glass.

Now he was the center of attention, standing in the middle of the room with drawn sword and wild eyes. "All right, me buckoes," he barked. "Who's up for a voyage?"

Fired from their alcoholic stupors by thoughts of treasure and mayhem, the wave vermin leapt from their seats and cheered. The searat grinned to himself.

He was positive he'd seen a proper ship moored at that little cove outside, and he could already feel the deck under his footpaws and smell the salt air, on his way with a loyal crew to go wherever the wind and their moods took them. Life was definitely looking up.

* * *

**A/N: Wow... I actually finished it! Whee! Ha ha ha! On to the sequel! What, you thought I was just going to leave our heroes banished and everyone else dead or forgottten? Oh, and don't expect a happy ending back at Salamandastron either...(ominous music) BWAHAHAHA!**

**Anyway, I want to thank all my loyal reviewers for their continued support: avelblue, storiewriter, Barkflow-of-Riverclan, ladyofthebookworms, and particuarly my good pal Kelaiah, who gave me the constructive criticism I needed to pull myself out of the metaphorical quicksand of my crappy first chapters.  
**

**(I mean, I had a Corsair calling his Captain "ma'am," and Kan's full name being "Darikan Arael," which meant "spirit of the desert sun" or something. Feel free to shudder and thank whatever religion you worship that it didn't turn out like that.)**

**And anyone else I may have forgotten to mention. When I see that people like my writing... it's like, one of the best feelings ever. I love you all! (female reviewers back away, male reviewers exchange interested looks) Oh come on, not like **_**that. **_

**Plus, for all you crazy people who might think Kan and Sakhyo are going to end up in a relationship, IT AIN'T GONNA HAPPEN. **

**Reason number one: I hate romance. Can't stand fluff, won't write it. (Except in Sue-parodies, where it's a requirement.) **

**Reason number two: They're TWO DIFFERENT SPECIES. Perhaps in the **_**real**_** world the ...situation... (if you get my drift ;D ) could occur, but it's highly unlikely any sort of stoat/mink hybrid creature would result. At least I **_**think**_** so. And what would you call their kid, anyway? A stink? Or a moat?**

**Anyway, hope you enjoyed it! **

**-LittlePsychoWolf **


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